The Bridesmaid
by julian-juliana
Summary: Who knew accepting the offer to be her cousin's one and only bridesmaid would ruin Hermione's life for the second time?
1. Chapter 1

**March 2014**

Once upon a time, there was an idiot named Hermione Weasley nee Granger. Odd, yes. At some point in time or another, she'd been called the most brilliant witch of her era.

That title was stripped from her the day she chose to befriend Draco Malfoy.

If Hermione had known the repercussions of her intended kindness, she would've found another pet project to satiate her therapist's request.

This.

Everything.

It was all Malfoy's fault.

Hermione would take the idiot-title. She deserved it. However, she refused to jump into hell alone. Malfoy was coming with her, and he was going to cushion her landing. Because of him, she found herself stirring awake in a place…

She internally scoffed. A place? She wasn't even on _Earth_. Her current settings resided on an alien domain where _science and_ _magic_ danced exquisitely together to an enchanting melody. Electricity thrummed contently in the face of supernatural energy, a feat Hermione struggled to comprehend. Asgard was, indeed, remarkable.

There was _one_ con grand enough to cast a dark, thick shadow over the pros.

It wasn't Malfoy.

He wasn't there.

She hadn't seen him in, like, a year, actually.

He was still at fault, though. If he hadn't done what he did, Hermione wouldn't know the brilliant highlights and the life-ruining lowlights Asgard had to offer. Sometimes the downside of a magnificent, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity was not worth encountering. Hermione, with good reason, believed herself to have made a terrible, _terrible_ mistake with The Downside. The depravities committed would've never come to pass if she'd simply ignored Malfoy that day in the office three years prior. Hermione would not have come to Asgard but remain on Earth, shrouded behind her Muggle-Repellent barriers with her husband and perhaps the child they forked out a great deal of galleons to acquire.

Behind those safe barriers, it would've been impossible for Jane to contact her personally.

Hermione was fully awake now and perturbed at herself for thinking herself into such an alert state so early. Dawn had yet to fully brighten the room, but the drapes fluttered from the wind, parting enough for Hermione to capture the night being pestered by the day to come. She was tempted to creep out of bed and bask in the view. Both skies of day and night in Asgard were something incredible. She could see planets closer to Asgard than the moon was to Earth.

And yet…the balcony behind the drapes did not belong to her, nor the room it was attached to. With what little self-respect and class she had left, Hermione refused to greet Asgard and her morning from the balcony of someone else's room.

One of Asgard's royalty's room, to be more precise.

Hermione rubbed the backs of her fingers into her eyes, the diamonds of her soldered bands scratching below her temple. It reminded her of her indiscretions, her sins, and her foolishness before she ever came to Asgard or even knew it actually existed. Like a Band-Aid, she should've wiggled her wedding bands off her finger the moment she got served divorce papers.

Ron had accused her of infidelity.

Despite her insistence of being faithful and the countless therapy sessions, he hadn't budged from that mindset and told her they needed to see another counselor who specialized in cases such as theirs—a therapist who specified in unfaithful partners.

Hermione had moved out of the house that day, telling him what they really needed was not each other.

During her twelve year marriage to Ron, she hadn't taken another man to bed until she got owled those retched divorce decree papers eight days ago. She hadn't filled them out yet; she and Ron were still married. Oh, the irony. If she were a child, she'd accuse Ron of coercing her into committing adultery because of his determination in believing she already had.

But she was not a child. She was Hermione One-Day-To-Be Granger Again. This was not her estranged husband's fault at all.

It was Malfoy's.

Yawning, Hermione vaguely heard the man beside her sleepily mumble something or other.

"Hmm?"

"I said…" He sounded annoyed. Good. "What are you thinking so violently about? It woke me."

Stretching languidly beneath the sheets with her arms above her head, she replied, "You poor, _poor_ little prince." Her sore limbs chastised her for moving, and her joints popped begrudgingly. She then settled onto her side, curling up to face him. She propped her head on her elbow and pouted petulantly. "Did your inconsiderate, lowly plaything stir you from your blissful unawares because she dare _think_?" She popped the k of the last word and grinned impishly.

"Know your place, witch."

The hairs on the back of her neck stuck up at his warning tone, but it did nothing to stifle her spontaneous, playful mood. Even if the unavoidable dispute didn't end in sex because she pushed him to his limits and he threw her out of his room, she'd still be pleased. Verbally sparring with him was a treat in itself.

Slowly, Hermione reached her pointed finger to Loki's face, his eyes settling on her MUDBLOOD scar jaggedly etched into her forearm. She started at his hairline, caressing a tiny patch of skin before skimming downward between his brows. The pad of her finger slid down the bridge of his nose and landed on his lips. She tapped them a few times. He was really quite handsome. "My place, _your highness_ , is a place you cannot see nor visit. Your _kind_ ," she hissed, as if disgusted, "is not allowed."

His eyes flashed angrily. "I _could_ find a way."

"And what then?" Hermione traced his lips with her short, but manicured nail.

"I'd rule your kind."

"The last man who tried didn't fare well."

Loki gently held her arm and tilted it just so, her scar within his sight again. "But it was not your particular kind he cared to rule, I gather? I am not so particular, Hermione."

"No?" She arched a brow and leaned closer to him. "Being so might spare you a while. That man, for all his tyranny and genocide, had an army. He had followers who believed in his cause, who fought and died for it. I suspect you'd wish to unite all magical beings and reign over them as their primary ruler. As powerful as you are, Loki, you couldn't possibly do so for long. When your only ally is yourself, the fall is that much more simple and _humiliating_."

Hermione found herself on her back with her arms pinned above her head, the weight of Loki pressing her into the mattress. Wiggling or any kind of attempt to get away would only encourage him, so she didn't bother moving. It seemed like this conversation was heading towards carnal territory, but she wouldn't bet all her galleons on that. There was still time for him to kick her to the curb.

"I'd gain their trust and eventually their loyalty," he rasped, his breath tickling her face. "I'd rule over them as a benevolent god and king-"

"Very few of us have kept our ancestors' pagan traditions so…good luck."

"-by taking one as queen."

Hermione widened her eyes, the air leaving her lungs. All words—her entire thirty-four year old vocabulary—died on the tip of her tongue. Her brain nearly flat-lined, but she resuscitated it and her voice box, managing to toss out a scrap full of syllabus without appearing and sounding anything but cavalier.

"Well, I happen to know a few women—a few _desperate_ women—who have yet to be spelled by the marriage fairy's wand. I'm sure one of them would suit you well. They don't _think_ , so I reckon you'd sleep peacefully in the night and early morning. The only thing to disturb you would be your crumbling, stale sense of right and wrong asking you why you so carelessly left it in your mother's womb."

Expectedly, Hermione found herself leaving Loki's chambers in last night's dress. Eight guards, four on each side of the double doors, watched her leave. Two of them left their station to follow her to her designated chambers three floors below. When she reached her room, the guards stood on each side whilst she entered. Inside, she stripped off her dress and undergarments and made way into her lavatory for a bath. It was a pool-like structure built into the tiled floor. It wasn't terribly large but enough so for her to completely submerge into the foamy, scented water and swim a partial lap.

With the hot water, oils, and salts filling the bath; Hermione donned the provided robe and went back into her room to see the rising sun from her window. She sat down on the plush bay and analyzed every influential detail the new morning had on the darkened sky. Her entire life, she had never truly appreciated the scenery above her. Liking and exploring the possibility of space seemed rather unnecessary. Like divination. They were just stars to her and nothing practical was to be found in them. Even when the Norse god Thor made his grand appearance in New York City and proved there was some truth in the Yggdrasil mythology, she never put much thought into it. Now the stars were so incredibly close, she couldn't help but be hypnotized by the beauty.

After a little while, she reluctantly left the window to shut off the pipes to the bath before easing herself into the water. She paddled to the other side and back before emerging completely, allowing the nearly uncomfortable temperature of the water smart every inch of her. When she surfaced and opened her eyes, Loki stood naked at the ledge. Hermione said nothing to him at first, going over to the basket on the ledge behind her and grabbing a bar of soap. As she massaged it over the wet skin of her left arm, she said, "You know, I almost believed you when you claimed to be done with me."

He dove into tub, leaving a hole in the foam. He resurfaced a few feet away from her, his expression unreadable like always. "This morning," he began, "were you thinking of your husband?"

"I was last night," she replied, quirking her lips at the brief, irritated expression that washed over his face. He darted to her, and she put the soap back in the basket, so she could press both hands against his shoulders incase he felt the desire to drown her. Beneath her fingers, she felt him tense and then relax. She stared at the space between her spread fingers and not for the first time, regarded how pale he was in comparison to the lightly-tanned and golden-hued people of Asgard.

"I was," she said firmly, "thinking of my husband a little bit this morning."

"Why?"

"He's my husband. I don't need a reason." He gripped her wrists, and she felt irritation in his squeezing pressure. She smiled a small one, looking up at him through her damp lashes. "Do you need one to think of your wife?"

"I've never married."

"Mythology claims otherwise."

"Sigyn." He scoffed and looked away. "My betrothed died centuries ago before our vows." Coercing her to the wall of the tub, his hands moved from her wrists and up her shoulders to loosely encase her neck. His thumb dug into the hollow of her throat threateningly.

"I enjoy our banter, Hermione, but such games have unspoken rules." He decreased the space between their faces, and she felt his mouth tickle her cheek. "I've killed for less."

He was having a moment, so she refrained from mocking him by rolling her eyes. "You won't kill me."

His lips travelled up to her temple and then her ear, and he said, "I confess to deserving the unmerciful end of a battle axe, yet my brother refuses to swing it. Taking a mortal witch's life will only leave him temporarily displeased."

"And eternally his wife who knows nothing of politics or royalty. As a new, naïve queen; she only knows one thing and that is all of Asgard must abide to her whim. You may be Thor's brother, but she's blowing him." Hermione smirked and turned her face, so their noses brushed. "Suddenly that battle axe doesn't seem so abstract, does it?"

He cursed at her (she was fairly certain) in a language she didn't understand before eliminating the distance and taking possession of her mouth. An hour later, they lay in her bed, though, neither of them were sleeping. He was on his back, his arms crossed behind his head. His eyes were slit and irked, contemplating deeply over something bothersome. He could possibly be brooding, but he wasn't the type to do so with an audience.

Mimicking her actions she'd done in his chambers, she curled up on her side and propped up her head. She bit her bottom lip and then said, "You should know I'm thinking of my husband again."

"Oh?"

"I'm debating on whether or not to tell him about this."

"Hmm. Would he not _burn_ you at the stake?" he chimed, thinking himself witty.

"It's complicated." She sat up and folded her sheet-covered legs. She extended her hand to her vanity and summoned her comb. While she picked out the knots in her damp hair, she stared down at him thoughtfully. "My husband is divorcing me."

He tore his gaze from the ceiling and graced her with mildly surprised expression. "Why?"

"He doesn't love me anymore."

"He has a mistress," he assumed.

Hermione shook her head.

"There's got to be a reason. A man does not simply wake up and no longer love his wife." He narrowed his eyes. "Unless she's taken to bed another man."

"I never strayed," she said, "despite his accusation that I had." She flipped her hair over her other shoulder and continued her painful ministrations. "Certain events unfolded that led to him to distrust me. He was willing to work on that, but I wasn't keen on what he had in mind. We no longer live together and haven't in months."

"You've been married for how long?"

"Twelve years."

"And no children?"

Hermione set down her comb and separated pieces of her hair in preparation for a crown braid. "Oh, did I forget to mention them? I have a litter, Loki."

"You don't seem the type to breed more than necessary if at all."

Unlike Loki, Hermione didn't have hissy fit tantrums when he breeched her limits, when he broke the unspoken rules of their game. She did, however, like to tell him tidbits of her childhood as a forewarning.

"When I was sixteen and in school, I was part of a secret club. Our main goal was to not let our headmistress find out about us, but there was a traitor in our midst. She told the headmistress and as punishment, I jinxed her face." Hermione freed one hand from her hair to draw an invisible line across her face: across the nose and from cheek to cheek. "The word _sneak_ right here in pimples. Until she dies, they will always be there."

It hadn't gone exactly like that, but Hermione's intentions were to have Loki know she could and would stoop to his level of trickery if needed.

"Sif's hair was not always so dark," Loki said.

Hermione clenched her teeth at the possibility of Loki turning her hair into another shade and texture. As dearly as she had loved her husband and his family, she never cared for ginger hair. If she were to do or say something awful enough to provoke Loki's vengeful wrath, she hoped he'd curse her tresses darker instead of lighter. Her personality was nothing but brunette.

Summoning pins from her vanity, she secured her braid and let her arms fall. She crawled over to him and caressed his collar bone. "My hair so much as changes in length before I leave Asgard, my farewell present to you will be permanently removing that glamour you wear so fetchingly."

She jumped out of bed before he could grab her and went to her armoire, pulling out a shimmering, faint peach dress and the metal plated armor meant to be worn when leaving the palace. She and Jane intended a long, leisurely stroll in the gardens that morning.

Dressed, she stood in front of her vanity and sighed in annoyance at Loki who had yet to budge from her bed. Glaring at him through the mirror, she lightly donned her face in powder and mascara before making finishing touches to her hair. She examined her hairline pensively and then waved a hand over her forehead, short strands breaking free from her braid to curve down to her eyebrows.

Hermione said nothing when leaving her room, greeting her appointed guards and escorts with a polite nod. They chauffeured her to the dining room and waited outside the kitchen where she visited for a few moments to snatch a peach from a fruit basket. She was then escorted to the gardens where she saw her cousin reading a book on a stone bench outside the entrance.

Jane caught Hermione's eye and closed her book, getting to her feet.

"You're late," Jane said, smiling tiredly, her cheeks flushed pink from the warmth of the early morning sun and the child growing inside her.

"Is everything all right?"

Jane looked at the guards and kindly told them to wait outside of the garden. When one protested, she scowled at him adorably. It was hardly threatening, but Jane's serious face resembled a child's who being given an extra serving of vegetables at dinner and no dessert.

Entering the garden, Jane linked their arms and rested her head on Hermione's shoulder. Her eyes fluttered shut for a long moment as they circled the fountain.

"You would like to tell me something," Hermione assumed.

Jane lifted her head with a sharp sigh and nodded. "I want you to stay."

"Jane…"

She shook her head, her eyes filling with unshed tears. "I don't have _anyone_ besides Thor, Hermione. I love him. I love him so much, but it's impossible for him to share the burden of being a stranger, practically a different species, on a foreign planet. He's visited Earth before, but our home is here. And Earth? They love him. The people here don't feel that way about me. Sif tries for the sake of Thor, but I'm sure she'd push me off the Asbru Bridge if given the opportunity."

"Jane," Hermione tried again. This time she sighed, long and troubled. "Jane, you know I can't _stay_."

"Stay. At least until the baby's born."

Hermione stared at Jane skeptically. Six months? She imagined staying with her cousin until she delivered the next heir of Asgard, only to be asked again to remain right where she was.

"What if I came back when the baby was born?" Hermione offered, hesitant. "I could help you with the baby for a month."

Now Jane appeared skeptical, and Hermione scoffed. "Despite popular belief, I do know how to cater to a child. I have a load of nieces and nephews." Hermione's throat tightened at the thought of them, imagining leaving Earth to live out her days on Asgard to play best friend and Lady in Waiting to her cousin. She'd be, literally, worlds away from them for thirty days. It would already be so difficult being divorced from Ron.

"Could you just…stay for a year? One year is all I ask."

"I'm about to get divorced."

Jane bit her bottom lips and directed her focus on her feet, the pink in her cheeks deepening. "I know," she said softly.

"I have to be in London to do that."

Jane nodded, solemn, looking as if she regretted ever starting off their shared morning as she had.

The next while, neither of them spoke and both were too conflicted to appreciate the dew covered petals of the flowers nor their pungent fragrance. Hermione mulled over Jane's request, not liking the possibility of being away from Earth for so long. What bothered her more was leaving Jane in her neediest hour. Her cousin did need a second ally, Thor being number one. Although, being a king most likely meant there was little time in actually being a husband.

The two women eventually stopped and took shade underneath the tree, having entered the center of the garden, their fronts facing one another while their eyes rested on the Iðunn tree. Hermione looked away when hearing the faintest hissing sound. She moved her gaze upward and saw a snake draped on the branch above she and her cousin

"I don't know how long the divorce will take," Hermione said, tearing away from the snake and breaking the silence. "I have no desire to drag it out, and I'm not entirely sure what all Ron wants. I can only allow him so much. When it's finalized, though…" God, what was she doing? "I'll come back for one year. If I do that, I have to leave today."

Her cousin reached for her, interlacing their fingers as if Hermione was going to disappear into thin air that very moment. She said nothing for a moment and then let go, replying, "Okay," in a voice barely above a whisper.

They briskly left the gardens, and Hermione went to her chambers and saw Loki standing in front of her window, looking out over the palace grounds.

"I saw a snake in the gardens this morning," Hermione said, closing the door behind her and starting towards her armoire. "A peculiar beast. It merely minded its own when Jane and I rested under the tree branch it was draped over."

Loki turned to face her, and she noticed a glass bottle and a single goblet on the small table beside him.

"You're leaving," he said.

"I'm coming back."

"Ah." He nodded gingerly, a strange grin on his face. He came up behind her and caressed the skin below her shoulder. "But not to me."

Hermione pulled out her overnight satchel and placed it at the edge of the bed. Loki then clasped her wrist and tugged her towards the table.

"Chilled tea," he said, gesturing to the bottle. He let go of her and poured some into the goblet, offering it to her.

"I wasn't born yesterday."

"It'll calm your stomach for the journey to Earth."

"Or eats it before I get there."

He chuckled, amused, and petted a loose tendril that had escaped her braid. "If I were to burn the last bridge between my brother and me, I would not resort to poisoning you. Your death would be magnificent. Breathtaking. Worthy of an audience to appreciate such an act of art." His fingers snaked to the shorter hairs at the base of her skull and yanked. He leaned way down and ran his nose along the side of her neck. Her pulse jumped even though she wasn't really afraid, and she knew he wasn't going to kill her—by poison or something more imaginative.

He was strong, though. Much stronger than her. If he were careless or peeved enough, he could hurt her. He had yet to leave a mark on her she hadn't appreciated in the moment, but harming a woman seemed within the realm of possibility with him. Not because he thought them weak and needed to be dominated and punished for disobeying 'their superior' but because he saw that woman in particular as an opponent, an enemy on the battleground.

Hermione knew then he wouldn't hurt her. She and Loki were not equal. Morally, she ran circles around him. Verbally, they shared the winning prize. Every other way, he was, indeed, superior.

He was not her enemy, and they were not at war.

Loki scraped the tip of his nose to her earlobe and then jawline, inhaling deeply before kissing her. Her eyes closed only to open again two seconds later when feeling his desperation. It was similar to how she came into work that one morning over a year ago, and Malfoy sat her down in her chair and professed his love for her. She had heard the desperation and genuineness in his words and saw the true despair when she refused him.

Loki's desperation was more raw and demanding and arrogant. Like he knew she wouldn't deny him.

He wanted her to drink whatever was in that goblet.

He pulled away from her and guided the hand to the goblet he was still holding and coaxed the rim to her mouth. Her eyes stared into his. Perhaps she was a _little_ afraid now.

"What is it going to do to me?" she asked quietly. His other hand was no longer tugging at her hair but massaging the base of her skull. The goblet touched her lips and a cold, flavored liquid trickled onto her tongue. Loki encouraged her to take two swallows and then took the goblet away. She put two fingers to her mouth and swallowed for a third time, ensuring to capture the sweet taste of apples.

He brushed a kiss over her cheek. "I look forward to your next visit, my dearest Hermione."

Loki disappeared as did the goblet in her hand. The bottle, too, vanished. It was as if he'd never been there to begin with.

Her hands shook as she returned to packing up her toiletries and makeup. When she placed her makeup bag into her modestly-sized duffle, realization crashed upon her like an rockslide meeting an anthill. Her heart plummeted into her stomach, and she rushed into the lavatory. She transfigured a bottle of bath oil into a cup and hastily poured some bath salt into it followed by conjuring some water. Tears blurred her vision as the wretched combination assaulted her tongue. She forced herself to swallow and then sprinted to the chamber pot, vomiting.

She expected Loki to reappear, taunt her on the silly attempt of purging the potion he gave her.

Potions could not be purged, for they were magically enhanced brews meant to immediate results.

Hermione gagged over the pot, stripping her stomach—not of the tea—but of the saltwater. She sensed a presence at the lavatory's entry and saw Jane, surprised and concerned.

"Oh, my God, are you all right?" She shuffled over to Hermione's side, crouching beside her and rubbing her back.

"I suddenly became ill," Hermione replied, tears streaming down her cheeks. She spit into the pot and back-crawled away from it, avoiding eye contact with her cousin.

"I'll take you to the healers."

Shaking her head, Hermione waved at Jane dismissively. "I'm all right." The healers would undoubtedly detect the substance Loki gave her and be forced to tell Thor and by lunch, Hermione would have to admit to the sickening, clandestine affair she was having.

Jane would not be pleased; she only tolerated Loki for the sake of Thor. Hermione's cousin was not a hateful person, but she undeniably _loathed_ Loki.

"You're not fine. You're puking," Jane said patronizingly.

"I promise I'm fine." Hermione forced herself to look sheepish. "I stole some grapes from the vineyard. I thought they were ripe, and I ate too many when I got back here to my room."

"Seriously?" Jane chuckled. "Then you deserve this then, huh?"

"Well, I wouldn't go so far to say that I _deserve_ -"

"But you're all right?"

Hermione wiped at her damp face, sniffling. "I will be."

"A carriage is waiting for you in front of the castle, but if you're not ready to go…"

"My stomach will settle by the time I reach the bridge."

The long carriage ride to Heimdall did little soothe her stomach. Before opening the bridge for her, he greeted her with a kindly nod, giving the impression that he knew not what had transpired between her and Loki. She felt both relief and disappointment.

* * *

An hour later, Hermione was back in her apartment sipping a citrusy soda drink and reviewing her divorce papers she'd left her bedroom a week before. As badly as she wanted to hide underneath her bed and sob like a child for what Loki had forced upon her, she had problems that needed tending to. Hermione prayed the problems would distract her enough to keep her mind and musings busy. Her next move with Ron was too critical, and she could not afford a mental breakdown.

Later at the ministry, she met with her attorney, and they sat down together to go over the divorce papers and roughly outlined hers and Ron's assets. When they finished, it was nearly five in the afternoon. Hermione went to see Harry, pleased to know he was still in his office and not out in the field. He smiled at her from his desk, nodding.

"Hey, Harry," she said and sat across from him in one of his visiting chair.

"Hermione," he said, setting down his quill. "Your parents said you were at a wedding. Must've been quite the celebration to have pulled you away for a week."

"I didn't realize you called them."

"For Ron…and myself. For him mostly. He sent the papers, and he expected to hear from you sooner."

Sighing, Hermione leaned back in her chair. "I'm going to drop by on him after this, I just thought I would come see you first and tell you…" she nodded slowly and absentmindedly, "I met with my lawyer. Ron and I _will_ be divorcing, and I want you to promise me that you'll still talk to me if the Weasleys aren't feeling up to it?"

"Hermione…"

"I'm about to lose something a whole lot bigger than a house and half of what's in my Gringotts vault, Harry. I'm going to lose a family. A _big_ one who are going to soon find out _why_ Ron and I decided to separate in the first place. They _are_ going to pick his side, and I expect nothing less. I need to know I'll still have you. You don't have to answer right away. I understand if you have to think about it. I've got time." She put her clasped hands on the desk and explained, "After the divorce, I'm going to leave for a bit. My cousin…she's having a baby and would like my help. I've planned to stay with her for a year."

Harry's brow wrinkled. "She doesn't know about you, does she?"

"No. It'll be an interesting challenge keeping it from her, yeah?"

Harry stared down at his lap and cleared his throat, nodding. "It might be good for you to take some time to yourself."

They left his office together and grabbed some tea to-go from the ministry cafeteria. They parted ways in the atrium, and she left for hers and Ron's house via Floo. When she arrived, she took in the dusty, unused sitting room and spelled away some of the built up grime on the sofa before sitting down. Ten minutes later, Ron arrived and twitched when seeing her.

"Sorry. I just let myself in," she said.

He paused and then shirked his blazer. "It's still your house," he said. He rolled up the cuffs of his white shirt to his elbows and asked, "Where've you been?"

"With family. With my cousin."

"Would you like something to drink?"

"I'd like you to sit, actually."

Annoyance washed over his freckled face, but he took his seat on the sofa. She faced him, pressing her lips pensively together before saying, "I loved this house, you know? I remember how excited I was when we moved in. All I could think about was the family we'd have. _Please_ let me finish, Ron." She sighed and wrung her fingers. "I _didn't_ cheat on you with Malfoy. Not _physically_ and even though I swore your accusations were unfounded, they weren't. I was unfaithful in the sense that I confided in him during the most difficult point in our marriage when I should've come to you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ron."

Ron stared at the floor, the man lost in thought as his pointer finger and thumb rubbed at his bottom lip. A moment later, he looked at her asked, "Will you go with me to the therapy sessions with the counselor I wanted?"

Hermione closed her eyes and bowed her head. "I hired a lawyer today."

Ron stood up and raked his fingers through his hair, facing away from to stare at their wedding photograph above the mantle. He asked, "Were we too young?"

"Our age had never been the main reason of our downhills."

"I wanted kids."

"Not having them wasn't the problem, either." Hermione inhaled deeply, and she was very surprised at herself and how well she was holding together. It only stung a little when she continued, "You can still have them, Ron. You'll meet someone else."

"I...I've been having brunch meetings with Cho about investments and other things." He turned around to look at her, slipping his hands into the front pockets of trousers. "Nothing's happened, but I like her company."

"I spent some time with a man while I was visiting my cousin. In the end, I did not care for his company."

"Did you…" She saw the question die on his lips but knew what he wanted to ask. She'd answer if he finished the inquiry. She'd answer honestly.

"Never mind," he said and slid his gaze up at the ceiling. "You can have the house."

"I don't want it."

"Then we sell it. Split the profit."

"All right." She got up from the couch and folded her arms. If only the house could be their one shared asset they invested in, the divorce could be finalized in no more than six weeks. "I ask for no profit from your and George's business, so long as the royalties from my books and manuscripts are mine alone."

Ron looked stricken. Unsurprisingly, the process of their divorce would not be buttery smooth but consist of badly brewed tea and stale crumpets at a conference table while the four of them—she, Ron, and their lawyers—tried to figure out what the hell to do to make them all happy.

* * *

A month later, Hermione found herself in Muggle London cafe at a table beside the window. The clouds had broken up enough to delay the downpour for a short while. She had come to the café for a ninety minute reprieve from her negotiation meeting with Ron and their solicitors. She ordered a cup of soup and an iced mocha. Her soup lay cooling and her drink warming as she read over Ron's third proposal concerning the dividing up of their assets. The trouble came from the fact that he wanted some share in her royalties as a novelist and textbook author. Hermione would gladly agree to this if he gave her some profit off his joke shop creations.

It was only fair.

During the more creative periods of their marriage, they had dealt out support to each other. When she had struggled with writer's block, Ron helped her break down the barrier by purposefully pitching terrible, awful ideas. When he and George faced difficulty in forcing a new product behave or function properly, she solved the problem and taught them what to do and how to fix it.

"Have you figured it out yet?"

Bristling at the familiar voice, she peered over the proposal packet and saw Loki draped in the chair across from her as if it were a throne. He was dressed in a crisp white dress shirt accompanied with a black blazer and trousers. His hair was shorter than when she last saw him, his curls coiling at the base of his skull instead of hanging above his shoulder blades.

Hermione folded up the proposal and set it on her lap. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Odin's taken to the Odinsleep. Without his influence, Thor's reigns are more flexible."

"He's occupied with other matters to track your comings and goings. I take it you shrouded yourself from Heimdall."

"Indeed. Alas, I cannot stay long and confess," his eyelids drooped lazily, "my patience thinning for your return to Asgard. My dear Hermione, tell me you've discovered my gift."

"The gift was not for _me_ ," she said bitterly. "You cursed me."

"I granted you immortality the same way Jane will receive hers in due time."

"For the same reason?" Hermione arched her brow at Loki's unreadable features. She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and tapping the heel of her shoe impatiently on the tile. "Jane accepted an offer that requires a long life. Persuade me, Loki, that you haven't cursed me to thrive while my friends and the rest of family die around me. What've you to offer that makes this burden a gift?"

Loki narrowed his eyes, and she almost detected hurt in them which was ridiculous. Why was he offended? Did he appreciate a goddamned thanks for demolishing her existence by eternalizing it?

Hoping he'd get the hint and leave, Hermione returned to reading Ron's proposal. A minute or so after, Loki shifted in his seat and spoke, "If you happened to suffer an ailment or inadequacy that negatively influenced your being's natural state, the apple of Iðunn remedied the fault. If you were slight of sight or hearing, they are no longer a concern."

Wiping her fingers with her napkin, she said to Loki, her voice quiet yet firm, "I think you should leave."

"Mmm." He nodded and stood from his chair, circling the small table and bending down to press a lingering kiss to her temple. He said nothing more and walked out of the café. He walked by the window she sat by and disappeared.

In her meeting, Hermione wasn't much use, her thoughts coiled around Loki, and how he dared to defy the sentence his father and Thor placed on him. Loki was not allowed to leave Asgard, and he had agreed to the new terms of his imprisonment after his assistance in Greenwich during what Thor called the Covergence.

Her mind elsewhere, the most Hermione could do in her meeting was to make a counter-proposal to Ron's. It would be her third one, and from there, he'd create a fourth. Their disagreement on who got what and how much morphed into a never-ending cycle, and Hermione feared she'd miss Jane's due date. The only thing she and Ron agreed on was the house which had sold rather quickly, the main selling point being that it belonged to the Tragic Magic British Sweethearts of the Golden Trio. A husband and wife paid a ridiculous amount of money for it, and Hermione split the profit evenly with Ron.

Three month later, Ron's solicitor spouted the forbidden a-word three minutes into the meeting, evoking another forbidden word to tumble out of Hermione's mouth.

"Alimony," proposed Mr. Davies.

"No fucking way," hissed Hermione and smacked Ron with a frigid glare.

Her solicitor Susan Bones put a gentle hand on her arm. "Calm down, Mrs. Weasley."

"I will eat you alive in court," Hermione threatened, and Ron shrank back in his chair, vaguely motioning to his lawyer, mutely explaining it was Roger Davies's idea.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley, please calm yourself," said Mr. Davies as he lazily cleaned his glasses with a handkerchief.

Slowly, Hermione got to her feet, her eyes pinned on Ron's. She braced herself on the table separating them and leaned forward. His gaze dropped to his lap, and she said, "Ron, look at me."

"Don't look at her, Mr. Weasley," Mr. Davies ordered.

"Ronald Bilious Weasley, you look at me."

Reluctantly, he did as she requested and gulped.

"This ends now. The books, the novels, the manuscripts, the baby grand piano, my marriage bands, and the china tea set and dishware your mother gifted us for a wedding gift _are mine_. I need not and will have no more _unless_ you and Mr. Davies drag this out further. If that be the case, then I will take you to Wizengamot and bleed you dry _slowly_ for months, years, a decade if needs be. We never signed a pre-nup, and the new appointed Chief Warlock is a friend who owes me a great deal. This is my counter-offer" Hermione extended her hand in offering. "Save us both from severe humiliation and _take_ it."

"Mr. Weasley…" started Mr. Davies and then cursed when his client practically dove onto the table to shake Hermione's hand.

Two hours following the agreement and sending the final divorce decree application into the system, Hermione found herself sweating and panting in her bed at her Muggle flat, a little guilty for not showing up for her remaining hours at work. She smacked her lips and wiped her forehead, turning to face Ron, sighing.

"I can't believe we just did that," she said and burst out laughing.

"You were bloody hot in there. Christ," he swore and broke into a grin. "I didn't realize how much I missed you bossing me around. Now I know what all the fuss is about concerning breakup sex."

"Divorce sex," Hermione corrected, her mood sobering. "It was good. And _bad_. Really bad. We were supposed to go back to work and _didn't_. We haven't done that since-"

"We first got married," he finished. "You know, Hermione…"

"This was a one-last-time thing? I know." She sat up and nodded, stretching her arms above her head to loosen the muscles in her shoulders and back. She let them fall heavily to her sides, and she said, "It's okay. I'm going to be putting in my two weeks' notice at work very soon, and my parents are going to be renting this place out to someone else in a couple of months."

"Where are you going?"

Hermione hesitated for a millisecond. "Norway. My cousin's about to have a baby, and I'm going to help her and her husband out. I plan to be gone for a year."

"This cousin is the one that got married a while back?"

"Mmhm."

"Are you going to date while you're there?"

She didn't miss the slight quivering encased in the question.

Hermione curled up her legs to rest her chin on her knees. "I'll be a little busy. I think you should, though. Invite Cho to a real lunch or something."

Ron said nothing for a while and then sat up, reaching for his pants on the floor. "Does Harry know you're leaving?"

"I told him. He was encouraging."

"He's probably right. Maybe I should do the same. Go see Charlie."

"I'm sure he'd like that."

Hermione and Ron conversed for a half-hour more before she walked him. She waved goodbye to him at her doorstep as approached the staircase. He returned the gesture and gave a tired but genuine smile. She didn't know it then, but she and Ron wouldn't see each other again for a very, very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** There is a brief snippet that may be a spoiler for those who haven't seen _Iron Man 3_.

And lastly, feel free to kindly let me know of any errors. This chapter was long, and I'm sure there's got to be a handful despite careful editing. :)

Enjoy! Please R&R! I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. That one will have more Loki in it. I promise.

* * *

 **November 2013**

Fiddling with her soldered wedding bands, Hermione gnawed on her bottom lip as the tip of Madam Mariotte's quill scratched on her clipboard. The sounds filled the silent room and to keep herself sane, Hermione pinned her gaze on her wedding portrait above the mantle. Her younger self beamed encouragingly at her.

Beside her on the sofa, Ron sat hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees. Every now and then, he'd rake his fingers through his hair or clear his throat to show his impatience. Madam Mariotte would ignore him and as if to spite him, her quill scratches would grow slower.

Ten minutes was a long time for a yes or no decision. Why the woman took sadistic pleasure in their impatience, Hermione didn't know. Mariotte knew she and Ron had waited for this long enough. Eight years of adult footsteps in a five bedroom house. It served as a lovely home for a good while, but it was too quiet and too clean. The home of Hermione and Ron Weasley hardly resembled the estates of their friends. When those friends would visit, they always complimented how organized and flawless the Weasley home was. Though their kind observations held no malicious intent, the praises rang like insults in Hermione's ears.

Finally, Madam Mariotte lowered her clipboard and placed her quill on it. From the sofa chair Hermione and Ron offered her, she sighed and took off her glasses and held them by the frame. Her severe features held the slightest amount of pity, and Hermione's insides turned to ice.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Mariotte started, "I've been doing this a long time, and I'm going to be frank with you. Indeed, you do have the means to provide for a child. Your home is exceptional, and you both possess promising employment which have great benefits. You are both in relatively good health. You two have many of the qualities needed to be granted a child. Unfortunately, I cannot do that today."

Hermione covered her mouth, tears blurring her vision.

"We've been waiting for three years to adopt, and you're telling us no!" Ron shouted.

"For now," replied Mariotte. "But I cannot and will not put a child into a home where the couple are in aggressive couple's therapy and won't even bother hiding their evident ambivalence of each other. Do you two even realize I could fit half a Quidditch team in between you two right now? A child needs and deserves parents who are not currently occupied in a more pressing ordeal. You two already have your hands full with another baby. It's called your marriage. Smooth out the wrinkles and mend the cracks. In a year, we shall see the progress and have another go at this. Good day."

Madam Mariotte got up from the chair and marched out the front door. Ron stood up the moment she left, saying, "I need some air." He stormed into the kitchen and out the back door, slamming it hard enough that the entire house shook.

Hermione paced the sitting room, inhaling and exhaling stuttering breaths, trying to plan her next move. Like Ron, she wanted out of the house. She retrieved her winter coat from the front closet and went outside in the front yard, catching one of the neighbor children's eye next door. She nodded at the boy and shuffled down the wet, cobblestone pathway to the road. The miserably, drizzly weather in Godric's Hallow had left the streets near vacant of life.

She walked into the corner market, quickly turning to face stack of _Evening Prophet_ newspapers when seeing her husband dart towards the pub in the back of the establishment. He had the right idea, didn't he?

Grabbing the newspaper, she took it to the counter and paid for it before heading back outside. She read the headline as she walked, mentally telling herself she should be grateful for what she had.

No. Grateful wasn't the right word.

Satisfied.

Hermione was grateful for her life. She had one, for starters. A beautiful home in a safe place that didn't feel the merciless, direct blows the Muggle World faced.

 **Other Worldly Attack In Muggle Greenwich: Thor saves the day,** read the headline.

Yes, Hermione's life could be a whole lot worse. She could've been in Greenwich earlier and have herself a seizure when seeing those ghastly crafts and aliens tear apart the Old Royal Naval College.

The evening grew darker, and Hermione sat at a bench beneath a streetlamp to finish reading the newspaper. The minister was ever so pleased the magical authorities did not have to intervene, and the situation was handled by The Mighty Thor. The article went on an anecdotal tangent concerning Thor's first big appearance in New York City attack the previous year.

The article continued on Page 6, but Hermione didn't bother skipping to it. The story wasn't going anywhere, and she had no place to be. Ron was going to be smashed to hell when he got home, anyway.

Hermione changed her mind when flipping to the second page. Apparently, Scorpius Malfoy's eighth birthday was such a bash, it made Page 2 of the _Evening Prophet_.

On Page 3, there was a belated tidbit of how Stonehenge was misbehaving.

Skipping to Page 6, Hermione continued to read the main article, pleased to find there weren't any deaths, although there were people expectedly harmed and being treated by nearby health facilities.

The second photograph of the article depicted Thor. He was not posing at first, laying on his back on the grass (a little worse for wear) as a tiny brunette helped him to his feet. There wasn't a clear shot of her, for her curtain of hair shielded her profile.

After finishing the Prophet, Hermione rolled it up and headed back home, thinking of dinner. Truthfully, she wasn't terribly hungry, so she thought of her husband and what he would like. Since Ron was going to be drunk, she contemplated his mother's chicken soup recipe. As she walked into her house, she was surprised to see him sitting on the couch completely sober. She paused and then closed the door, waving the newspaper.

"Do you want to read it?"

"People were talking about it at the pub," he said, standing. Hermione set the newspaper on the coffee table in front of him anyway and then shirked her coat, draping it on the sofa chair.

"Are you hungry? I was thinking of soup, but you can have something else. We could go out," she offered. "We haven't done that in a while."

"I'm not hungry."

"Um…" Hermione folded arms and glanced at the stairs, wanting to leave him alone. Ron may not always be hungry, but he rarely turned down a meal. Ron not eating was a new development, a new thing which evolved within the last year. For almost a year, Hermione hadn't seen or heard from Draco, yet his much appreciated absence hadn't improved hers and Ron's relationship like she believed it would. On the contrary, Ron's attitude towards her soured even more.

She wanted to go to her room.

Their room had become hers. She and Ron no longer shared a bed.

Before going to her room, however, she had to ask her husband something important.

"Ron, do you even love me anymore?"

Her husband looked at her for a long while. He cupped the back of his head and stretched his arms before letting them fall to his side. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I don't know."

Nodding, Hermione turned around and climbed up the stairs. She got about halfway when Ron said, "I want us to try another counselor. One who has worked with the kind of thing we're going through. I've been going to this support group, Hermione. It's for spouses who've had unfaithful partners, and this one bloke recommended this other healer. Healer Gentry. I think we need this."

Hermione's fingers clenched the banister, and she craned her neck to look back at Ron. She swallowed and breathed in, her heart hammering violently inside of her as it settled into her stomach.

"I think…" she began thickly, "what we need right now doesn't concern one another, Ron."

She continued up the stairs and into her bedroom, leaving the door halfway open. Her hands shook as she pulled out her dusty, old school trunk from her closet and opened it, pulling out her near-forgotten beaded bag. She tossed it on the bed as well as bunch of clothes hanging on the rod. Grabbing her wand from the nightstand, she shrank the outfits and stuffed them into the bag. She repeated the notion until her closet was empty with the exception of her garment bag housing her wedding dress, and then she started on her drawers.

Ron came to the door and pushed it all the way open. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm leaving," she said, shocked at how firm her own voice was.

"So you're just going to give up, is that it?"

Stuffing her folded clothes into the bag roughly, she said, "You gave up first, Ron. For almost two years, I've been paying for something I didn't commit. You tossed everything away the moment you believed _Malfoy_ over your wife."

"The evidence—"

"There was no evidence, Ron! None! He told you lies!"

"And what of the clothes, shoes, your hair! You becoming a stranger was proof enough, sweetheart! People don't recognize you! You changed for him, I know it!"

"I changed for me!" Hermione slammed the last drawer and put her remaining clothes into the bag. "I failed at the one thing a woman is supposed to do, and I felt ugly for it."

"I never made you feel that way."

"I never said you did." Slinging the strap of the bag over her shoulder, she brushed passed Ron and started downstairs.

"Are you going to my sister's?" he asked, following her.

Hermione yanked on her winter coat, tying the belt around her waist. "There's no need to bring her and Harry into this. I'll be at my parents."

"So that's it, then? You're going leave me with the fallout? What am I supposed to tell everyone, huh?"

With her hand on the doorknob, Hermione said, "Whatever you'd like."

She opened the door, and the autumn, damp air hit her face. She paused when Ron asked, "Are you coming to my parents' for Christmas dinner, at least?"

"No." She closed the door behind her and travelled down the walkway, Disapparating when she reached the road. She appeared in Diagon Alley and went through the Leaky Cauldron to reach Muggle London where it was safe to turn on her cellphone. As she walked down the sidewalk, she called her mum's phone and damned near burst into tears when hearing her voice.

"Mum?" she said.

 _"Hermione? Is something wrong, dear?"_

"I was just wondering if you and Dad are home."

 _"Your father and I are at in a conference in Paris. Is everything, all right?"_

"Um…not really. Ron and I, we…aren't together right now. I was thinking I could come home for a little while."

 _"Oh, no. Hermione, what happened?"_

"We've been having troubles, and I…just want to come home. You wouldn't mind if I did, would you? I still have my key."

 _"Honey, we changed the locks and put in a new security system. We got robbed a month ago."_

Hermione stopped in her tracks and sniffed, wiping the stray tears from her cheeks. "I didn't know that. Why didn't you tell me?"

 _"You're so hard to get ahold of, and I didn't want you to worry. You have your own life."_

"Mum," Hermione said, exasperated and shaking her head. "I'm sure if you're fine with it, I can manage to get inside the house without causing too much of ruckus."

 _"Well…oh, hold on, dear. Someone's trying to call Mummy."_

Making her way to the station, Hermione waited for her mother to pick up the line again. Five minutes later, her mum asked if she was still there.

"Yeah, I'm here."

 _"That was Jane. She's in London. Something work related, but she plans to stay for a while and, apparently, has been trying to contact you off and on since she got here three weeks ago."_

"Did you tell her I changed my number and email over a year ago?"

 _"I did as well as reminded her of your personal opinion of Facebook. I also did a horrible mother thing and told her you're on the way to see her right now."_

"Ugh!"

 _"I kept it vague and told her that you're having a rough day and could use a friend."_

"Mum!"

 _"Hermione,"_ she said gently, _"I don't want you to be alone right now, and Jane did call me to get to you."_

"I'm not going to show up on her welcome mat like a pitiful, stray cat."

 _"Then call her and tell her you're not coming, and that you're staying at your parents' house. Maybe she'll find her way over."_ Her mom sighed and continued, _"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I wish I could be there. Your dad and I will be home in a few days, all right? You can explain everything to me then."_

Hermione hung up, groaning and contemplating whether or not to call her cousin. In the end, she didn't and hopped on the tube, getting off in two stops and walking the rest of the way to her late Aunt Daphne's house. She knocked on the door and Dr. Selvig, Jane's mentor, answered.

He had no pants on.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, keeping her eyes leveled with his. "Hi. Is Jane here?"

"You must be Hermione," he said, smiling, and stepped onto the welcome mat to embrace her. Hermione made an 'eep' sound and stood stalk still as he patted her on the back. "It's so good to meet you. I can see the resemblance between you and Janie."

"Erik!" Over Dr. Selvig's shoulder, Hermione saw Jane rush into the main room. Her cousin grabbed at the man's shirt and pulled. "Okay, Erik, let go of Hermione."

Dr. Selvig did as she requested and stepped back into the house, patting Jane affectionately on the shoulder before going back to whatever he'd been doing previous to answering the door.

"I'm so sorry about that," Jane said, breathless, her cheeks tinted pink. "Something happened to him, and now he does weird things like not wearing pants when answering doors."

"That's…unfortunate."

"Yeah." Jane chuckled and gestured for her to come inside. Hermione stepped into the house, making note of the changes since she last visited. It had been several years since her Aunt Daphne's death, and Jane seemed to have added to the décor rather than take anything away.

Cautiously, Hermione untied the belt of her coat and then hooked it on the rack along with her bag. "My mum said you were in London for work. How's that going?"

"Well, it's-you know-work," she said and started shuffling to the kitchen. "But I'm sticking around until after the New Year. Would you like some coffee?"

Blowing out a breath, Hermione glanced at her watch. No, she didn't want coffee, but it wasn't like sleep had it out for her that night, anyway.

"I'd love some." She followed Jane into the kitchen and sat at the little round dining table. Papers and photographs littered the surface, and Hermione took the liberty of picking up a chicken-scratched piece of college-ruled paper. She tilted her head one way and then the other way, assessing the formula her cousin appeared to be struggling with. Several numbers and symbols were scribbled out and replaced with others.

"I see you're still working on the Einstein-Rosen Bridge," Hermione said, setting the paper down to hesitantly picking up a photograph of wet asphalt with runes burnt into it.

Jane pressed the button on the coffee machine, and plucked two mugs from the cupboards in front of her. "Would you believe me if I said I've finally figured it out?" She then added belatedly, "Ish?"

"Jane," Hermione showed her the picture of runes, "what's this?"

"Oh, that?" Jane chuckled nervously and rushed over, taking the photo from her. "Just, uh…physics."

"I've never seen physics like that." Except in books of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Thinking about it, Hermione supposed those two things, when collaborated together, could produce something similar to Muggle physics. However, physics could not refabricate magic. It was impossible.

"Well, it is," Jane said firmly, sticking her chin out.

Hermione knew how much metaphorical rotten tomatoes Jane had been on the receiving end of since she changed her nursing major to go after her dream of becoming an astrophysics over ten years ago. Even after three degrees, her cousin continued to get flack for her firm belief that the Einstein-Rosen Bridge was within the realm of possibility.

"All right." Hermione nodded, looking sheepish. "This your field, not mine. It just looks like magic hoo-ha to me."

"Magic is just science we haven't figured out yet," Jane quipped, pouring coffee into the two awaiting mugs. "I know that's hard on the ears of the most logical person I know, but trust me on this. I've seen things. I mean…you saw it on the news today probably. The attack in Greenwich and in New York City last year. I bet there are places out there in unknown galaxies where science and magic are the same thing."

Hermione's gaze drifted, taking notice of Jane's knee-high red rain boots. She kept her focus on them, even when Jane handed her a coffee mug. She thought back to the image on Page 6 in the Evening Prophet. That tiny brunette woman helping Thor to his feet had been wearing those exact same boots.

Jane sat down in the neighboring chair and blew on the steaming liquid. "You okay?"

Before Hermione could say anything, a young man and a young woman in their early twenties came bursting into the kitchen. The woman yawned exaggeratedly and said, "I smell coffee!"

"May I have some, Dr. Foster?" asked the young man.

"Dude, you don't need to be all polite and stuff," the sleepy woman said. She poured herself some coffee and announced, "And can we never do what we just did today ever again?" She took a long, drawn out gulp of her brew and then sighed happily. "Is there an all-day breakfast joint nearby? Ian actually worked up my appetite…Oh, hi! You must be Jane's cousin" The woman walked over to Hermione and stuck out her hand. "I totes see the resemblance. You both got the whole dewy brown-eye, fantabulous-hair thing going on ."

"I like your blue eyes," the young man said to her.

"Ah, I love it when you're all polite and stuff," she cooed.

Hermione took the woman's hand and shook it gently. "Hello. You must be Darcy."

"I'm Ian," said the young man.

"No one cares." Darcy sat down on the opposite side of Hermione. She took another long gulp of her coffee and then asked, "How do you feel about Jane changing her Facebook status from 'It's complicated' to 'In a relationship'? It needs to happen, right?"

Hermione jerked her head to Jane, brows arched and momentarily forgetting about red rain boots and Greenwich. "You're not back with Donald, are you?"

"Who's Donald?" Ian asked, pouring some milk and sugar into his mug

"The better question is," Darcy began, "is what are you doing to your poor, defenseless coffee?"

"No, I'm not back with Donald," Jane replied and scoffed, rolling her eyes. "And Darcy couldn't mind her own business to save her life."

"Speaking of," piped Darcy. "That's one mofo-ing set you got there on your finger. Your husband must be rolling in the pounds, am I right?"

"Where is Thor, by the way?" Ian asked, pulling out his cellphone. "I was going to have him autograph my cellphone case."

Ironically, the case had the Captain America shield logo on it.

Wait. Did he just ask where _Thor_ was?

"Okay," Jane said, pushing away her mug of coffee and standing. "Hermione, I think we should have dinner someplace that's not here."

A half-hour later, they sat at one of the few tables in Carpo's drinking Turkish coffee and waiting for their tilapia gyros. Once Hermione allowed the pleasant, familiar taste of the drink to soothe her, she set down the tiny cup and said, "So you found your Einstein-Rosen Bridge and captured the heart of a bloke in the process. All in a good day's work, yeah?"

"Thor's more than a bloke." Jane blushed. "He's a god."

"A demigod."

"He's a hero."

Hermione couldn't argue with that, but she knew from firsthand experience that heroes weren't perfect. "Yes. Yes, he is." She shifted in her seat and regarded Jane carefully. "But forgive me if I overstep my bounds, Jane. He didn't contact you for two years and then left again."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying…" Hermione shrugged and fiddled with her wedding bands. "Don't change your Facebook status."

"He's coming back."

"When?"

"He had to figure stuff out with his dad and brother—"

Hermione cut her off with a deep, troubled frown.

"What?"

"His brother? You're talking about Loki."

"Never mind him. Listen, this is it." Jane drew a circle with her two pointer fingers for whatever reason. "Thor's it for me."

"You said that about Donald. Remember what happened when you gave him everything?"

Jane opened her mouth and then clamped a hand over it, her eyes hard and upset. She stayed like that, even when the server delivered their meal, and a minute or so after. Finally, she removed her hand and asked, "Did you get all that?"

"I think so, but it was hard to decipher from all the colorful language."

"I'll think 'beep' next time."

They ate the majority of their meal in silence until Jane said, "Aunt Helen mentioned you were having a bad day. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"If I ask you another question, will you answer honestly?"

"Depends on the question, I guess."

Jane nodded and took her last bite of gyro and drained the rest of her coffee. "Do you need a place to stay tonight?"

Groaning, Hermione shook her head. "You've a full house already."

"I can squeeze in one more person. We can share a bed like old times."

"Are you going to knee me in the arse like old times?"

"Mmhm. I'll even wet the bed."

Hermione shook her head, grimacing from the twenty-eight year old memory of sharing a child's cot with Jane who had soaked through her pull-up that night and drenched the sheets. Hermione had never let her forget it. "Please don't."

* * *

The twin bed in the second guest room was far from a child's cot, but it might as well have been for the two woman occupying it. Curled up with their heads and feet facing opposite directions, they lay uncomfortably, although Jane had managed to fall asleep unlike Hermione. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks and onto her borrowed pillow as she wiggled her rings with her thumb. She recalled the blow to the chest when Ron said he didn't know if he loved her or not. And after how he confessed to going to those support groups for people supposedly like him, she wasn't sure if she loved him anymore, either.

That scared her.

Sometime close to three or four o' clock, Hermione managed to drift into an unfit rest. When she stirred awake, the sun was up, but she couldn't have possibly slept for long. Perhaps a few hours. Jane was no longer in bed, and Hermione could hear murmuring, most likely coming from the kitchen. She rolled out of bed, her back and neck smarting, and stumbled into the loo. A few minutes later, she went into the kitchen in search for some coffee and saw Jane, Dr. Selvig, and Darcy circled around the table eating cereal. Once she got her mug-ful of morning miracle, she joined them.

"So how long are you staying with us?" Darcy garbled, her mouth full of cereal. She washed it down with some coffee, ignoring Jane's reproving glare.

"I'm leaving today. This morning, actually."

"Ahhh," she lamented. "I was thinking we could all decorate the house for Christmas."

"It's too early," Jane said.

"No, it's not because there's no pesky Thanksgiving here dictating when we can or can't put up a tree."

"I'm still going to celebrate Thanksgiving, Darcy. We'll decorate after that."

Darcy stuck out her tongue and then became distracted by her chirping phone beside her plate.

An hour later when Hermione was waiting for her turn to shower, her mother called and told her she could stay at the flat in downtown London as long as she needed. Hermione suspected she and her father had a long, heated discussion the previous night about their thirty-four year old daughter moving back home.

Hermione thanked her mum and said staying there would probably be best.

Once she showered and redressed, Hermione grabbed her beaded bag from the coat rack and said farewell to Jane, Dr. Selvig, and Darcy. Jane offered to drive her to the complex, but Hermione refused to put her America cousin through London's morning traffic.

"We'll do lunch, okay?" Jane hugged Hermione goodbye. "Soon. You're going to tell me about your bad day."

By noon, Hermione's beaded bag was empty and her things were put away in the master bedroom of her parents' flat. She stole a pricier wine from the makeshift cellar in the utility room and drank it straight from the bottle while not bothering to sit on one of the sofas when watching her mum's recordings of _Downton Abbey_. She cried straight through three episodes and repeated the process when the bottle became empty. Halfway through the second bottle, she contemplated returning home but then passed out before she could drunkenly weigh the pros and cons.

When she woke up, the telly remote was stuck to her cheek. She peeled it off and prodded at the imprints it left behind. She groaned when imagining how utterly spectacular she probably looked. Her feet stumbled as she made her way into the kitchen. The clock on the stove read a quarter after ten, and she opened the fridge, closing it the moment she saw nothing but wine, champagne, and ouzo on the bottom level.

Of course there wouldn't be food. The flat acted as a romantic, booze-infested getaway for her aging parents when Surrey got too dull.

It was too late to go grocery shopping, Hermione knew that, so she searched the cupboards and found a jar of crunchy peanut butter and a jar of Nutella, the latter being hidden in way in the back of the wine glass cabinet like a dirty secret. As she scooped some of it and the peanut butter into a bowl, swirling them together, she wondered which one of her sugar-Nazi parents broke the rules.

Returning to _Downton Abbey_ , she decided to be a little classy and sit on the sofa instead of the floor while she ate her concoction and finished off her second bottle of wine.

During the night, she passed out again and woke up late in the morning to her phone ringing on the kitchen counter. She ignored it even though she was wide awake and pouring herself a gigantic glass of water. Her phone rang again while she drank her second glass, but she still let it go to voicemail. After her third glass, she checked her phone and saw it had been her dad trying to call. She called him back and listened to a ten minute lecture on how separation almost always leads to divorce. He encouraged her to go back home to Ron.

Hermione didn't argue with him, but she did tell her father that she loved him and that going home to Ron wasn't in the cards as of yet. She hung up before he could get in another word and then went into the bedroom to take a shower and get ready to go shopping.

While an afternoon rainstorm settled over the city, Hermione was juggling bags and bags of food into the flat. While putting the groceries away, she thought of how unready she was to return to work the next morning. It wasn't that she disliked her job as a (magical) liaison for Interpol, she just…didn't love it anymore. Nor was she feeling all that chipper from the shit-weekend she had.

Knowing she needed to someway find balance in her life to make her bleak future look less depressing, Hermione sent a text to Jane and invited her, Dr. Selvig, and Darcy over for dinner. She hadn't particularly wanted all the company, but she didn't want to offend Jane. Her mentor and intern were clearly dear to her.

Nevertheless, Jane had been the only one to come. She had picked up a tiramisu for dessert which they shared after a vegetarian lasagna and wine. Because of her earlier binge, Hermione limited herself to only a single glass. When they moved their conversations over to the sitting area, Hermione admitted to the reasoning behind her bad day and the very condensed, very vague version of what led up to it..

That would just confuse her.

Jane gave her sympathy and support, and Hermione thanked her by asking if she'd rather stay the night than travel back to the house. Her cousin took the offer and slept in one of the spare bedrooms.

With Hermione becoming a relatively permanent resident of Muggle London and Jane planning to stay until after the New Year, they spent a lot of their spare time together.

And with Darcy.

One could not forget her.

* * *

Hermione joined Jane, Darcy, and Dr. Selvig for an American Thanksgiving feast at the house. After everyone had stuffed themselves sick, they ate pie and drank tea and fell into a deep sleep in the sitting room. Around ten at night, they woke to a strange sound coming from the backyard. By the time the three of them managed to snap themselves fully from their comas, the back door opened and Jane tripped over everyone in the process of rushing to greet their unexpected guest.

Following a quick snog at the threshold, Jane formally introduced Hermione to Thor as a plate of leftovers warmed in the microwave for him. He took her hand and kissed the back of her hand, saying, "No, Lady Hermione, the pleasure is mine. I have yet to meet a blood relative of my Jane's, and I'm not disappointed. I see beauty runs rampant in your family."

"Oh, wow," Hermione muttered under breath, suppressing the urge to keel over and die from laughter. "I see why my cousin is so smitten with you."

As Thor laid waste to the pile of food on his plate, Hermione was reminded of Ron and how he used to have an appetite like that. She smiled morosely and quietly left Thor and Jane alone in the kitchen to catch some fresh air outside. The air was cold, but not so much as to force her back into the heated house. She paced the patio and then paused when noticing burnt markings on the dead grass. She hovered over them and fished her phone out of her jacket, snapping a series of pictures of what had to be runes. Like the ones in Jane's photos.

It then dawned on her that these were from Thor.

Or from whatever brought Thor here.

Einstein-Rosen Bridge, perhaps.

Magic and science, indeed. Maybe Jane was onto something. Still, she'd never be able to accurately interpret the markings with physics alone. She'd have to branch out and take on an entirely new field of study which wasn't taught at one's common university.

Satisfied with the number of pictures she took, she went inside and joined everyone in the sitting room. Jane and Thor stood close the front door like they were about to leave.

"We're going to get some more ice cream for the pie. Thor has never had ice cream so…" Jane slid on her jacket with the help of Thor and waved at them. "We'll be right back."

"Drive safe, Jane," Dr. Selvig said. "I think I'm going to turn in for the night. It was good to see you, Thor."

"And you," Thor replied, dipping his chin.

Jane grabbed his hand and guided him out the door as her mentor disappeared down the hallway. Darcy then said to Hermione, "I bet you a box of Pop Tarts Jane and Thor don't come back with ice cream."

Hermione frowned and was about to ask why they it wouldn't when she realized what Darcy hinted at. She whipped out her phone and thumbed in Jane's number.

"Please don't tell me you're going to cock-block them," Darcy lamented.

Finger suspended over the send icon, Hermione said, "I don't want to see Jane get hurt."

"Oh, my God, do you think he could?" Darcy blew out a breath. "I guess it's possible with him being so strong, and with the probable size of his-"

"That's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant, and Jane's a big girl. She's going to do big girl things like have sex with her incredibly hunky, heroic boyfriend. In a car."

Hermione glared at her and pressed send, cursing when the call went straight to voicemail.

"Look, I get where you're coming from. Donald was a douche in disguise, and you're worried Thor might be the same."

"You think he's not?"

Darcy shrugged and cleaned her glasses with the hem of her shirt. "I think Thor coming back after two years says something." She slipped on her specs and smirked. "And they hadn't even got to third base when he left the first time. And she told me they didn't get down to any funny business when he took her to Asgard. And when he left the second time, they only swapped spit for, like, eight seconds." A comical look crossed her features. "Maybe I shouldn't have bet you a box of Pop Tarts. What if they actually did go for ice cream?"

"I like the strawberry ones," Hermione said, smirking, even though she still felt apprehension. It's not that she didn't think her cousin a catch, for Jane was extraordinary in every way. However, she found it difficult to believe the Norse God of Thunder truly fancied a mortal woman. Aside from a pretty face and a brilliant mind, Jane couldn't offer him much more. Those attributes, though positive, were temporary compared to the lifespan of a demigod.

Jane and Thor returned an hour later and by then, Darcy had fallen asleep on the couch, and Hermione busied herself in the kitchen, cleaning up the remaining pots and pans from the Thanksgiving dinner. Jane had, indeed, brought ice cream, but Hermione kept silent when taking note of Jane's warm, flushed cheeks and swollen lips and the fact that Thor wouldn't look her in the eye.

Hermione was familiar enough with Norse mythology and Viking culture to be surprised by Thor's behavior. Acting shy following a conquest or consummating a relationship shouldn't be in his nature.

Maybe Jane requested he act normal as to not arouse suspicion of their activities, and acting unlike himself (a few dashes of arrogance marinating in an attractive amount of charisma) was the best Thor could do.

"I saw you called," Jane said, putting down the grocery sack. "Sorry, I didn't pick up."

"I only wanted you to get some java chip for me," she lied.

Jane blinked at her and then grinned toothily, sticking her hand in the paper sack and pulling out a carton of Häagen-Dazs Java Chip ice cream and waggled it. "Who do you adore more than anyone?"

It was Hermione's turn to blink, shocked. "Thank you. You can just put it in the freezer. I think I'm going to turn in for the night."

"The new air-mattress is in the front closet," Jane said, "if you want to just lay it in the front room."

"That's fine, thanks."

With the ice cream put away and Jane escorting him to her part-time childhood bedroom where they would somehow share a twin bed, Hermione moved the coffee table and set up the air-mattress. Darcy remarkably didn't stir through the process. The next morning, however, Hermione awoke to Darcy lying beside her, two couch pillows acting as a barrier between them. Hermione was grateful for the consideration. The intern seemed like the type who'd cuddle slash gyrate against the person sleeping next to her if not somewhat restrained.

In the kitchen, the clock read 6:17, and Hermione put a note on the fridge saying she had to leave for work. She took the tube and was back her apartment before seven, where she readied herself for the day.

During her lunch hour, Jane called and by her jaded tone, Hermione reckoned Thor had returned to Asgard. Hermione asked when he planned to come back and visit to which she replied with a hopeful 'soon'.

By mid-December, both Darcy and Dr. Selvig left England, the former going back to America to spend the hols with her mum and the latter leaving for Sweden once he was assured Jane would be taken care for Christmas. Hermione's parents had extended an invitation to their niece, and both women began to visit the Grangers' household more often, coming over to help decorate for the season as well as to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

* * *

To appease her mother, Hermione attended a midnight mass with her at the midnight of Christmas while Jane and her father stayed at the house and slept. Her mum was disappointed Jane didn't want to go, muttering how Aunt Daphne would be disheartened.

A little after two in the morning, Hermione and her mum got back to the house. Before she made it to the stairs, her mother asked her to flick each room with the basil holy water. She almost said no, the refusal hot and tempting on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it and complied with the request. It was Christmas, her mum's favorite holiday. Hermione could participate in one more tradition and not act like a petulant brat but a respectful daughter who was more or less mooching off her parents' goodwill by letting her live rent-free in their flat.

The last room she sprinkled the holy water in had been her childhood bedroom where Jane was semi-awake, laying face down on the bed and groaning softly. The lamp on the bedside table was lit, and her IPad was propped and facing her pillow-smashed face. She was watching a TED Talk given by Tony Stark.

Because she felt like it, Hermione went up to her and flicked the water on her bum and the back of her head.

Jane didn't even flinch.

"The Killantzaro won't get you now," Hermione said, setting the dish on top of her dresser.

"It already did. I'm so nauseous. I haven't puked yet, but still." Jane sighed haggardly and sank further into the bed, her eyes shooting solemn glances at she screen of her IPad. "I never got to meet him. Even though I know a guy."

"Well." Hermione sat in the ledge of the bed next to Jane and paused the screen, flipping the cover over it. "I heard he had the impressive talent of being both charming and obnoxious."

"He was a genius."

"You're a genius, and what happened to Mr. Stark was tragic. I'm sorry you never got to meet him, but…it's Christmas. Time for happy thoughts, and you need to rest if you want to stomach my mum's sugar-free baklava tomorrow."

"Mmph." She turned over onto her side, facing away from Hermione. Flicking off the lamp, Hermione left the room and closed the door behind her, going into the guest bedroom to sleep for the rest of the night.

In the late morning, when everyone was awake and surrounded by the Christmas tree opening presents, Jane still wasn't feeling well but managed to nibble at certain items during brunch. A can of ginger ale and a three hour nap later, she was feeling fine enough to eat a polite portion of roasted halibut and bits of the side entrées. Instead of sampling of the sugar-free baklava, she opted for a cup of ginger tea.

Though another night at the Grangers' was offered to Jane, her cousin chose to go home. Hermione offered to drive her, saying she shouldn't be on the road if she wasn't feeling well. Jane reluctantly agreed and handed over her lanyard of keys.

* * *

Pulling up to Jane's driveway, Hermione killed the engine and went inside the house with her cousin. Jane sat down on the couch, her eyes drifting closed. Hermione went into the kitchen and searched the refrigerator for a can of ginger ale. Finding no such luck, she grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino and nearly bumped her head on the freezer door when hearing the same sound in the backyard she had on night of Jane's Thanksgiving dinner. Hermione opened her mouth to call for Jane, but her cousin was already sprinting across the kitchen and out the backdoor. Setting down the bottle, Hermione lagged behind and paused on the back patio to see Jane jump up into Thor's arms. He said something to her she didn't quite catch, and Jane bobbed her head up and down.

Thor gave her a relieved smile and then lifted his hammer and shouted another phrase Hermione didn't quite catch. A bright light engulfed both he and Jane, shooting them up into the sky. A force-field of pressure radiated off the beam, flattening Hermione to the patio. The light then quickly disappeared, but Hermione continued to stare at the spot they once stood.

"Bye," she said, a bit breathlessly, to no one and got to her feet, pulling out her cellphone, capturing several images of the runes burnt into the dead lawn. She ran into the house and turned on the kitchen light, studying the photographs and chuckled in amazement at what she was interpreting. Admittedly, it wasn't much, for interpreting runes was a continual process of research and study, connecting bits of information to weave a story or a spell or both.

Hermione left Jane's keys on the coffee table and locked up the house before Apparating to her flat in downtown London. After a couple of days, she expected to hear from Jane but never got a phone call. New Year's Eve, Hermione called her, but it went straight to voicemail.

A week into January, Darcy and Dr. Selvig called her asking if they'd seen or heard from her. Every day for the following weeks, well into February, Hermione received calls from both, hoping for any news on Jane.

Even though she had the right to be, Hermione wasn't upset with Jane for leaving so abruptly or being gone for as long as she was. She was worried, however. Her cousin's absence was closing in on two months and other people besides Dr. Selivg and Darcy were trying to get ahold of Jane. At first it was representatives of Jane's grant foundation wanting to know how faired the progress on her research. Hermione had to direct them to Dr. Selvig.

The next party weren't so polite.

On the phone and in the middle of a conference dispute with her employer and several of her coworkers during her lunch hour at work, a smartly dressed man traipsed in and closed the door behind him. She stared at him, befuddled, and was about to tell her employer to hold on for a second, but the man reached across her desk and grabbed the phone from her, hanging it up.

"Excuse me-"

He pulled out a photograph of Jane from his breast pocket and held it up for her to see. "Have you seen this woman before?" he asked, his accent as southern Yankee as they came.

Hermione blinked and sat down in her chair, suppressing the urge to vomit. "Is she all right?"

"That's what we'd like to know. You're her cousin, correct?"

"If you knew that, why'd you ask if I'd seen her before?"

The man smiled stiffly and put away the picture. "When was the last time you saw Miss Foster?"

"I'm sorry. Who are you?"

"Answer the question, Miss Granger."

"That's not…" Folding her arms, she leaned back and glared at him. The man practically screamed government. "I saw her at Christmas."

"And she went missing after that," he said, causing Hermione to frown suspiciously.

"May I ask who reported her missing?"

"May I ask why you weren't the one to do so?"

"Because she's in Norway."

Hermione knew herself to be an idiot, but she wasn't so thick as to tell this strange, foreign man the truth.

The man opened his mouth and then closed it, his eyes slit. He then dipped his chin. "I see. And that's where she told you she went."

"Yes."

"All right. If you want to lie, so be it. Now if you would kindly hand over those photos you took of your cousin's front and backyard back in December. We already retrieved the images from your phone earlier today, but we like to be thorough."

"We?" Hermione said faintly, grabbing her phone and went to her gallery. All pictures, videos, and downloads were gone. She discarded the device and logged into her employee email account and then into her personal Gmail.

Oh.

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no, no!

This was why Mr. Hurst reamed her and coworkers a new one. He hadn't got any of her files she sent because the files were empty. The icons and their titles were there, but the information wasn't. Whoever this 'we' was, they hacked her and Interpol's entire network database. Their thoroughness was akin to hacking up a beheaded body and depositing the bits into a wood-chipper that spout out the muck into an active volcano.

"I, um…" Hermione swallowed and scratched her temple, eyes glued to her useless computer screen. "I have some in my flat. Since you rendered my day useless, I suppose I can fetch them for you."

"It's being taken care of." He marched out of her office, and Hermione was torn in running after him and hexing him in front of everyone or dashing upstairs to plead her case to her boss as to not get fired. The ministry wouldn't like that. She was asked to be the (secret magical) liaison for the law enforcement department and Interpol because she was the best. If she got cut, Draco Malfoy would be asked to come back and no one wanted that.

Hermione chose a third option—a rebellious one. She left work, hoping Mr. Hurst would connect the dots by five o' clock and realize their system had been tampered with.

When she got to her flat, she noticed how 'clean' it was. It hadn't been messy that morning, but her kitchen floor had needed a good sweeping and dust had begun to accumulate on the bookshelves. Her bedroom, even, was organized to the point of perfection. The people who raided her apartment for those hard copies clearly had a severe form of OCD.

A little while later, she travelled to Gringotts, asking the goblin director to be taken to her vault. Ten minutes later, she entered hers and Ron's bank cellar and gravitated towards her collection of rare and priceless books. Tugging on a white pair of feathery soft gloves, she pulled one from the shelf and opened it, the book falling open to a page where a folded up piece of Muggle printing paper was wedged into the crease. She unfolded the paper and grinned smugly at her last hard copy of the runes Thor and Jane left in their wake Christmas night.

By the end of February, Erik's and Darcy's calls became infrequent as did Jane's funding foundation. Hermione's worry over her cousin began to fester into exasperation and wondered if she was experiencing karma. Was the universe duking out an obnoxious 'ha-ha' because of what Hermione did all those years ago?

At seventeen, Hermione had bewitched her parents to leave for Australia during the height of the magical war. She should've sent them to the States where her aunt and uncle lived with Jane. It certainly would've prevented the drama that smacked Hermione in the face when she meandered her way to Sydney to fetch Mum and Dad. Her thoughts had only been on them, not her extended family who'd driven themselves damned near insane trying to contact slash find the Grangers.

* * *

On the 26th of February, a soaking wet Hermione entered her flat and peeled off her raincoat and toed off her boots. She groaned at how cold and uncomfortable she felt and fantasized of a hot bubble bath, _Downton Abbey_ , three scoops of java chip ice cream, and a glass of wine. Tapping at her balcony door stirred her from her delightful evening planning, and she padded over to the sliding glass barrier and yanked at the drapes to find Ron's drenched owl with a sizeable parcel.

"Oh, my goodness," she cooed and slid open the door, allowing Pumpkin to come inside from the cold. It flew onto the counter and hooted gratefully, happy to be out of the cold, damp London evening. Hermione ignored the soiled droplets of dew falling onto the marble surface and gave her some sausage owl treat bits.

Washing her hands, she untied the parcel from the Pumpkin's leg and then cast a temporary weather-resistant charm on the owl. She hooted again and glided back to the balcony glass door where Hermione let her go.

The parcel was wrapped and charmed to resist weather. Hermione tugged at the string and brown wrappings, revealing a thick stack of white parchment paper.

The bold heading on the first page had her sinking down on a stool and contemplating whiskey over wine. Tears clouded her vision, but she didn't get the chance to shed a single one due to her cousin bursting through the door.

The two women stared at each other for five seconds or so before the younger, more wet and icy one announced through haggard panting, "I'm getting married!"

She then darted into the hallway loo, not bothering to close the door as she doubled over and vomited into the toilet. Hermione watched from the hallway, taking in Jane's sickly and soaked appearance. She wore a lavender, floor-length dress, the material expensive-looking and sopped. On her arms and over her torso, she wore the winter coat Hermione had last seen her in and beneath that, and there were glimpses of finely molded armor covering Jane's bust and shoulders.

"Where the hell have you been?" Hermione asked.

"Asgard," Jane managed.

"This whole time? You were gone for over _two months_. People worried. Darcy. Dr. Selvig. Loony government people. Me."

Spitting one last time into the toilet, Jane teetered to the side and caught herself against the wall. A sheen of sweat shined over her greenish skin tone, and her chest heaved from exertion. Once she caught her breath, she said, "I know. I'm so sorry. I didn't plan to be gone for so long. I was going come back at the beginning of January, but something came up."

"Thor proposed?" guessed Hermione.

Jane nodded yes and then shook her head no, and then nodded again. She climbed to her feet and sighed. "I wouldn't call it a proposal but sure. I had to plan a wedding. I couldn't leave until now, but I have to go back as soon as possible. I…made some life-changing decisions there. I'm going to be continuing my work but not from here."

For a freshly engaged woman, her cousin seemed oddly out of sorts and extremely overwhelmed for the wrong reasons.

"Jane, are you all right? Are you in some sort of trouble?"

Her cousin blinked at her and then chuckled. "Oh, my God, you'd have to think so with the way I just broke into your apartment and barfed all over the place and talking in riddles. I'm good. Really. I'm happy and excited. Thor is, too."

"But?"

"Everything's happening so fast. The wedding. How long did it take to plan your wedding?"

"You know it took year." And Hermione didn't have to plan a single thing with the exception of saying where she wanted to marry—St. Demetrio's chapel much to her mother's delight. Her mum and Molly did everything else.

"A royal Aesir wedding takes two, and somehow I'm supposed to pull one with all its bells and whistle out of my ass in six weeks. It's going to be a disaster!" Jane lunged at Hermione, holding her in a tight embrace.

"Okay, I'm sorry you're upset." Hermione combed gentle fingers through Jane's wet hair and staring at the unflushed toilet knowingly. "Would you like to tell me why you're getting married so quickly?"

"Why does anyone get married so fast?" Jane then moaned and pressed her face into Hermione's shoulder. "I'm an _idiot_." She sniffled and pitifully added, "The pill doesn't mean anything to his...well, you know..."

"Is Thor all right with…it?"

Jane pulled away and scoffed, rolling her eyes and an affection but tired smile appearing on her lips. "It's like he's the only one to have ever gotten a woman pregnant. He's excited." She touched the armor over her bust and then her dress. "I'd like to change. Can I borrow some clothes and then use your phone? I have, like, a million calls to make."

"Of course."

As Jane showered in Hermione's master bathroom, Hermione poured herself a large glass of wine and stared bemusedly at the divorce decree her husband sent her. It laid their threateningly on the counter. Mocking her. Jane's abrupt intro into her flat had shook her, erasing the need to have a good cry. Hermione wasn't sure whether to be grateful or not for that.

A half-hour later, Jane emerged from the bedroom appearing like a brand new person with the exception of the far away, almost solemn look in her eyes.

"I knew it would be a long shot and everything, but Darcy and Erik can't make it to the wedding on such short notice."

Hermione righted the sheets of parchment and shoved them into the nearest drawer. "When you say short notice…"

"I have to leave in the morning. Hermione," she said, pleading.

It then dawned on Hermione how very small Jane's social circle was. Hermione had a few close friends and a fairly sizeable support group in the magical world, yet...Jane was far more likeable than she. Her cousin was very kind and never allowed her brilliance to inflate her ego. Jane never thought less of those who weren't as academically gifted like Hermione had. Her personality wasn't suited for an acquired taste but pleasantly swotty yet playful and cuddly pink.

"To Asgard?" Hermione winced, and she couldn't believe she was actually thinking about going. It was another planet. And she had work and obligations and a divorce. "Um…" Swallowing thickly, she chuckled and asked, "How long would I be there?"

"A few days. That's all. I promise. And you'll love it. Asgard's beautiful and the palace libraries are amazing."

Three, perhaps four days, Hermione could dabble with. Maybe throwing herself into her cousin's wedding wouldn't be so bad. It would keep her mind occupied and help her put things into perspective.

It was still short notice. Hermione was going to have to drop a 'family emergency and using up all my vacation days' lie on her employers which would lead to getting an earful from both her employers. The worst they could do was fire her, and it wasn't like she couldn't find work elsewhere. She was Hermione Weasley nee Granger, for Christ's sake. It would be them suffering. They'd have to ask for Malfoy's return.

Massaging her forehead, Hermione exhaled sharply and nodded. "All right. I just have to call everyone and not actually tell them where I'm going."

After the phone calls, Hermione went to pack and stopped short when Jane instructed her not to bring clothing.

"I didn't realize Thor came from a nudists' colony," Hermione quipped wryly.

"Wear your usual tomorrow and do your hair and makeup really nice, but they don't appreciate our clothes. When we get to the palace, I'll lend you some of my dresses. You're going to go nuts when you see my wardrobe up there. No one needs that many dresses. Ugh. Now shoes? They're not shoe people, Hermione. They incinerated my Uggs. They didn't care how much money I spent on those things."

Hermione would _not_ be bringing any of her Manalo Blahnik's to Asgard. "They?"

"My help." She blanched. "I mean my servants. I mean…I'm going to be queen. Queens don't wear Uggs."

"Oh," Hermione said, eyebrows arching in surprise. She sat down on the edge of the bed, taking in the bit of news carefully. "I didn't realize Thor was a king now.

Jane tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "It's why he came and got me. He wanted me to be there for his coronation. After, he asked me to stay longer." She exhaled sharply and busied herself at the vanity, carefully considering Hermione's makeup, clips, and ties. "Then I was sick, and my chamber maid asked why I hadn't bled yet like it was any of her business."

* * *

Neither of the women felt the need to go to sleep for night. Instead, they stayed up and shared a pint of ice cream, a bottle of sparkling grape juice Hermione found in the wine fridge in the utility room, and watched hours and hours of _Downton Abbey_.

At dawn, they peeled themselves off the sofas and got ready for the trip. Hermione did as Jane requested and donned her makeup with extra care and tamed her unruly coils into springy, shiny curls with a bit of her special sauce—an enhanced serum brewed in Wizarding Paris. She then coerced her tendrils into a wad, and shoved in one of her simple but elegant hair-combs to keep it from unravelling.

Once she was fully dressed, she packed up her makeup, hair products, and toiletries in an overnight bag and went into the kitchen to prepare a cup of instant coffee while Jane paid her dues to the toilet in the hallway once more. Ten minutes later, they were both ready to leave. Hermione locked up her flat and followed Jane out the door and out of the complex. They took the tube and were at her home within an hour. When they got to the house, Jane linked their arms and guided her to the front yard.

"Hold onto me," she ordered. "You can close your eyes if you want."

Hermione's eyes squeezed shut. The moment they did, she felt herself being lifted and catapulted upwards. Inside the beam, she could sense the different temperatures and pressures on the outside. She chanced a look and gasped when seeing stars and galaxies smear by them and for a brief moment, there was nothing but blackness before new stars and new galaxies greeted them.

The entire experience lasted only ten seconds or so, but when Hermione's feet touched solid ground, it felt like she'd been flying top-speed for hours.

Hermione hated flying.

Letting go of Jane, Hermione touched her face and looked down at her body to make sure everything was intact. "That was awful," she said and then bothered to stare ahead of her to take in her golden, dome-shaped surroundings. Her focus then landed on an oddly dressed handsome, dark-skinned man standing on a platform, his strong hands wrapped around the hilt of what looked like a large sword.

"Whoo! I'll never get sick of that," Jane said, smiling and then waved at Heimdall. "Thank you. This is Hermione."

Heimdall stared at Hermione, his golden eyes metaphorically stripping back her skin to peer into her soul. His stoic face broke momentarily when the corner of his mouth twitch upwards and then returned to its intense line. He bowed his head and greeted in her in a rich, pleasant voice, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Hermione of Midgard. I hope you find the realm of Asgard to your liking."

He knew.

He knew what she was.

Hermione only managed to nod as Jane grabbed her hand to lead her out of the dome-like structure and onto what had to be the Asbru Bridge where a carriage awaited them. The coachman helped them into it and started the horses towards Asgard.

Popping her head out, Hermione stared down at the crystalline surface beneath them and out towards the water where it seemed to drop off into nothing. Her eyes narrowed and she said, "So Asgard is truly flat."

"Why don't you look up?"

Hermione gaped when seeing two planets neighboring them closely.

"The gravitational forces of Asgard and those two worlds don't throw each other off?" she inquired.

Jane smiled brightly at the question. "You'd think so."

The trip to the palace was longer than Hermione anticipated. Just reaching the end of the bridge and breaching the city took the better part of a half-hour. Getting to the palace took well over an hour, and Hermione was becoming restless. With the majestic scenery of her surroundings and the curious (and some loathsome) looks she and Jane were given from Asgard's citizens, she wanted to explore and ask the people a million questions.

The palace was unlike any Hermione had ever seen or studied. Her focus soaked in the beautiful architecture and landscape, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips as the coachman offered his hand to help her out of the carriage.

"What?" Jane said.

"This," Hermione waggled her hand at the object of her affection, "is going to be yours. You're not going to be offended if I still address you as Jane, are you?"

Her cousin looked at the palace as if for the first time, only a bit more guarded. She paled and then grimaced. "I'm in way over my head. I want to puke again, but I need to eat first."

They hadn't made it far into the castle before Thor graced their presence. He swept Jane into a strong embrace and twirled her, muttering into her ear of how much he missed her lovely self the night before.

"Let us never spend another night apart," he murmured, brushing kisses on her forehead.

"Okay," her cousin replied, dazed. She then melted further into his body and said, "I'm so hungry."

Thor stared at her like she confessed to being stricken with stage four cancer, and Hermione coughed into her fist, trying to look busy by assessing the grand corridors and the vast, open space. It all seemed to be exquisitely crafted from gold, granite, and marble.

One novelty led her to another and then to another. Soon, her head was tilted all the way back so she could look up into the innards of a spindly tower. She probably looked ridiculous, but who could blame her?

"It's good to see you, Lady Hermione," Thor said, tearing Hermione out of her trance.

"Hmm?" She dropped her eyes and then blinked owlishly. "Oh, you, too. Forgive me. I've never seen anything like this palace...nor Asgard. It's beautiful, and I'm grateful to be given a chance to visit."

"The honor is ours," he said graciously. "My Lady Jane speaks of your brilliance and wisdom, and no realm could possibly suffer from having another mind such as yours. I think my future queen would love your assistance, given it is her intent to build a bridge and Bi-frost such as Asgard's to benefit Midgard."

"Well…"

"She's only going to be here for a few days," Jane interjected. "And Hermione's awesome at physics, but she's more of a historian. She wrote an in-depth history book on the European witch trials."

"Then you must show her the libraries and allow her to become more familiar with Asgard's history." Thor then cautiously said to Hermione, "I hope war and bloodshed does not trouble you too much. I'm afraid my realm's past may be seen as...conflicting."

Hermione smiled blandly, thinking of the swimmingly good time she had in the nineties. "Mine, too."

* * *

Before she and Jane could go to breakfast, they were escorted by armed guards to Jane's chambers, so they could change their clothes and freshen up.

"Why the guards?" Hermione asked once the chamber doors closed behind them. She placed her overnight bag on the edge of bed and started unbuttoning her blouse.

"Security won't be so heavy after a while. Asgard's on good terms with the other realms, but there are other enemies who'd see a royal wedding as a great time to crash a party. Could you imagine if some lunatic tried to pull something at Will and Kate's bash, and there'd been no security?"

A lunatic _had_ tried to pull something. Hermione thought of Alexie Dolohov who now resided in a plot next to his father somewhere in the magical part of the Ukraine.

No one could argue that she wasn't brilliant at her job.

Jane lent her a creamy beige, flowy dress that cinched below her breasts. As for her cousin, she wore a similar garment in the color of light brown. Hermione was rather surprised by the colors she chose given the extent of her cousin's new wardrobe, and Jane said, "I'm sorry, but I don't feel like wearing bold colors and shimmers at the breakfast table."

"This is more than fine," Hermione quipped, grabbing the sheer top layer of her skirt and twisting back and forth and then letting it fall. She felt overdressed enough. "When do trousers come into fashion here for women?"

Chuckling, Jane nodded at her reflection in the vanity and then turned around, her features serious. "We're going to breakfast now, and you need to understand something before we do."

Hermione pursed her lips at the change in her cousin's demeanor. "What?"

* * *

While the palace chef's prepared breakfast, four souls occupied the dining table. None of them saying a word. Hermione felt Jane's hand search for hers underneath the table and allowed their fingers to interlace. When the fifth soul arrived, her cousin tightened her grip, and Hermione returned the sentiment. She lowered her face and stared down at her lap, hating the new arrival chose to sit directly across from her.

Maybe he wouldn't notice her.

Or care.

Or both.

The man had better things to do than to care about Jane's bridesmaid at the dining table.

"Now, Thor. Did not mother do away with bigamy? As your primary advisor, I cannot condone you reinvent that particular marital law. I suggest you return this new attachment to whichever blind salesman you purchased her from. Unless…you intend to keep her as a concubine. Then by all means, my king, I ask that you exchange her for a younger, possibly un-plucked version. This one wreaks of overuse. Like the future queen of Asgard."


	3. Chapter 3

**Late August 2014**

Unlocking the door, Hermione walked into her flat, her sight immediately picking up a figure facing the sliding glass door leading to the balcony. The figure had pushed back the blinds and was peering out upon the city, his hands locked behind his back. She sighed heavily, flicking on the lights and placing her keys on the small table beside her. She closed the door and said to Loki, "Not only does your faulty leash need to be replaced, but it should be shortened, as well. Significantly."

"This is where you live?" he said, seeing fit as to turn and face her. "I took the liberty of having a gander in your absence. For a witch, you live rather...mundane is the word I'm looking for."

Hermione folded her arms, her thumb skimming over the naked skin of her ring finger out of habit. "What are you doing here, Loki?"

His smile stretched wide and for that single moment, she could see through the front he generously painted himself with. Obviously, he came to her flat to see her, but not for forgiveness. On the contrary, Loki wanted her to understand his reasoning behind his actions without verbalizing a single word. He wanted to go back to the night of the wedding and every night following, up until she left.

Staring at him for a long while, a part of her wanted to be closer to him. As pathetic as it was, she had _missed_ him. An entire sitting room separated them. The other part of her instructed her stay by the door. She compromised and walked until she was a few feet away from the sofa. Only a piece of furniture between them now, but it was enough for her. What she wanted to ask him held more gravity this way.

"Have you ever even been in love?" She hadn't meant for her inquiry to sound so patronizing. She had no desire to mock him at the moment. Her question stemmed from genuine curiosity with a hint of exhaustion from trying to figure out the hidden traits of his personality he kept so well hidden. From what she understood of him, if he had loved, it wasn't pure. It was warped. Everything he could love he also hated.

"No."

He was lying.

Badly.

On purpose.

She expected her question to provoke anger, malicious sarcasm, or even a freezer burnt laugh. Instead, he simply denied it whilst he inspected her parents' entertainment system.

Now she was the one angry. She licked her teeth and glared at the carpet, shaking her head. A frustrated chuckle tore from her throat. "Did you figure it out before or after I left Asgard?"

A few beats passed before he spoke; his tone sharp, annoyed, and entitled. "I wanted you the moment I saw you." He stole a few steps towards her. "Stop asking me questions you already know the answer to, Hermione. It's beneath you, and a waste of both our time. I know what you want me to say. You want the reason why I forced you to drink that tea. You want an apology. You'll never hear them."

"I deserve to know something."

"Know you can now bear children. Know your preciously incompetent cousin will never be without you. Know that I want you still, even in the face of your unforgiving ire." He disappeared from view and reappeared in front of her. She gasped lightly in surprise and tried to back away, but he held her shoulders to keep her still. "Do you loathe me now, Hermione?"

Reaching for the hands resting on her shoulders, she curled her fingers around them and looked up at him. "Could you blame me if I did?"

When he didn't reply, she said, "I want to. I should."

"You don't?" His eyebrows arched.

"What you did to me was unforgivable, Loki, but it's not the worst thing I've been on the receiving end of. It _is_ the worst thing I've been on the receiving end of by someone who claims to _want_ me. The last man, he destroyed my marriage. _You_ , my life. "

"You're being dramatic. Is immortality truly so horrendous to you?"

"It's unnatural. No one is meant to live forever."

Her hands fell from his, and she went to step away from him, but he caught her at the waist. She shot him an irritated look as if to ask 'What could you possibly want now?'

"You can be angry with me for as _long_ as you like, my dearest. That will not change what's been done. There is no reversal unless you honestly wish to die. Like you said, no one is meant to live forever. I'm fairly certain," he brushed his thumb above her clavicle, "if your pretty head was removed from the rest of your lovely self, you'd be given the demise you so crave."

He dipped his head low and brushed kisses where his thumb had caressed, as if to let her know it would not be him who'd stoop to such brutality. Into her skin, he whispered, "Despite your fury, have you missed me?"

"No."

He chuckled breathily, and his hands traveled up her back, one resting between her shoulder blades and the other cradling the back of her neck. His mouth ghosted over hers. "Are you sure?"

She cupped his face, her the heel of her hands resting in front of his ears to better to keep him on his side of the very thin, nearly nonexistent line. "How's Jane?" she asked.

As expected, the mention of her cousin had him rolling his eyes. He let go of her, and she took advantage of the separation and went to the kitchen, turning on the light and opening the fridge. She debated the wine over a bit ouzo but thought better of it, grabbing a bottle of water instead.

"You're more of a queen than she is," Loki said.

"Your highest compliments of me seem to always be at my cousin's expense. I don't appreciate it."

"Each one of them are true."

"No. You're biased because you've seen me naked." She sipped at her water and set the bottle down on the counter. She licked the drops from her lips and eyed him carefully. She rested her hand on the surface of the counter drummed her fingers. "I'm going to be in Asgard in three days. Why visit me now?"

Loki's gaze hardened, his spine stiffening. "There is unrest in Jotunheim. A civil war. They are not Asgard's finest allies. Since The Convergence, they've softened somewhat and asked for assistance in dismantling the rebels. At first, the council and I advised Thor in sending our infantry. They will not return, and my brother refuses to send in more warriors if he cannot lead them in battle."

Hermione's drumming fingers curled into a fist. "And you're going."

"We depart in the morning."

Putting her back to him, she looked down at her feet and then began to pace. "Jane hasn't told me much, but I do know _you_ and Jotunheim are not allies. I doubt Thor asked you to join him. If not for that reason, then for political ones. If both of you were to fall in battle, then what of the throne? Asgard yields to Jane because the king demands it. Without him _or_ you-"

"Their heir-"

"Isn't even born yet," Hermione interjected. "And God knows how long it will take for the baby to grow up."

"The responsibility will fall to the council-if Jane so wishes-until the heir comes of age."

Shaking her head and refusing to face him, Hermione scoffed. "Why are you really going, Loki? You can't possibly be all right with _any_ of this. Or even care about Jotunheim, a realm you tried to destroy."

"You're worried." He sounded amused.

"Don't evade the question."

"I'll do as I please."

Clenching her teeth, Hermione folded her arms and glared at him. She walked by him and down the hallways. "I think I know why you're here. I have to shower."

When she reached her bedroom, she glanced over her shoulder and snapped, "Are you coming?"

* * *

Loki rolled off of Hermione, she moved with him, molding her front to his. She grazed chaste kisses along his sternum before resting her chin there. Her eyes closed for a moment, letting herself feel his heartbeat drum fast with hers. She absorbed the setting, memorizing each and every detail—the slight coolness to his skin, the entanglement of their legs, the tingling and puffiness of her lips, the pleasant ache of her legs and womb, the way her mind rushed with a million uncontrollable thoughts.

God, she damned near hated him.

She couldn't get enough of him.

"Are you thinking of your husband?" he drawled.

"I don't have one," she said, peeling her eyes open and frowning. "You were right when you said I wouldn't be returning to you."

His eyes widened, surprised by the meaning of her words. He repeated what he had said earlier, sounding more amused than before. "You're worried."

"I don't wish you harm…no matter your shortcomings."

Long fingers wrapping themselves into her hair, he coaxed her head upwards to brush his lip against her forehead, and she hid her scowling mouth into his throat. "I've battled in far worse circumstances, Hermione."

"Then why did you come? If it was a mere ruffling of feathers between two parties, then why see me?"

"Is it not customary for a warrior to seek comfort from his companion the night before leaving for the battlegrounds?" He maneuvered her so her head was tucked underneath his chin, and she was now flush against his side. His hands skimmed the rigidness of her spine and arms, and he exhaled softly, annoyed. "Woman, you can't be upset with me for forcing you to partake of an Apple of Iðunn _and_ defending Asgard's allies in their time of need. It's either one or the other."

"I'll do as I please."

He groped her bum roughly for her impudence, and then asked, "Have you given any thought in bearing a child?"

"Not in the last five years, no."

"Now that you can, I meant."

Hermione shook her head. "I know what you meant and no. It's not the right time."

"I suppose childbearing can be more inconvenient in certain times than in others."

The need to snort was almost too much to bear, yet Hermione managed. She did shoot him a bemused glance and thought of all the things (not children-not really) mythology accused him of birthing. He had no idea how taxing hosting a developing fetus could be. Bloody hell, even attempting to get pregnant could be tiring and burdensome. Hermione reflected back to the time before she discovered herself to be infertile. Sometimes, she and Ron just really weren't feeling up to another round of romping. Not only was it exhausting but desensitizing and had begun to lose its specialness.

And then there were rarities like Jane who became impregnated whilst on the pill after an uncomfortable go at it in her late mum's old car.

"What about you? You're, like, ancient. Ever thought about retiring from an isolating life of self-absorption and world domination, settling down to marry and having a litter of your own?" asked Hermione.

"I'm about to go off to war," he said and then added, deadpanned, "tomorrow."

"After. You don't really think you're going to die out there, do you?"

"You're the one who's worried."

"I never said that."

"It's painfully obvious."

It was Hermione's turn to glare. "Like I said, I don't wish you harm. I don't actually think you'll die. You're too…"

"Yes?" He smirked arrogantly.

"You're the kind of man who manages," she said, slitting her eyes. "I've met men like you. The kind who can slither their way out of any difficult situation. You plan accordingly and if that fails, you improvise. You coerce the environment to your desires and if that doesn't work, then you adapt. Your own personal endeavors may not be successful, but your survival instincts are brilliantly so. I've encountered many who would call a person like that cowardly, but it's a skill—a talent—not many acquire in their life. You're not going to die, Loki. At least not on a battlefield. It's not in your nature. You're not the warrior but the weapon. I suppose…I can see now why Thor wants you by his side."

For a long while, he stared at her, his expression unreadable. She quirked her lips in a half-smile. "That's how you pay a compliment, Loki."

He still said nothing and soon her stomach grumbled. She got up from the bed but before she could get too far, he grabbed her wrist and said, "What if you're wrong?"

There was the the slightest amount doubt in his eyes. She knew underneath his haughtiness and pride lived a self-loathing, insecure little boy. Nevertheless, it was the first time he voluntarily showed her that part of him.

Hermione wasn't going to comfort him. She already gave him an undeserving commendation. The last thing she wanted was to sing him praise only months after he cursed her. For God's sake, she had allowed him a rather spectacular sendoff that would keep him warm while in Jotunheim. There would be no more of stroking his ego.

"I don't take kindly to being wrong," she said lowly, her tone almost dangerous and wrenched her wrist from his hold. She slipped on a robe and stalked out of the room and into the kitchen, making herself something to eat. When she returned to her bedroom, he was gone.

* * *

It was as if Jane's baby was waiting for Hermione to arrive before even bothering to cause a scene. The night Hermione returned to Asgard a knock on her door, roused her from sleep. Hermione threw on a dark blue, flowing robe and rushed to the infirmary, the pained cries of her cousin growing louder with each step. When Hermione entered, Jane lay on a cot with an assistant holding each of her bared, spread legs back.

Daphne's arrival was rushed. The newborn wasted no time after her mother's first contraction to greet her kingdom. Long before dawn, her wails echoed off the walls of the infirmary, and Eir placed a freshly washed and swaddled baby girl in Jane's eagerly awaiting arms, the child's cries then turned pitiful and yearning. Tears of joy streamed down Jane's flushed, sweaty face. Hermione sat down in the seat beside the cot and rested, her body slackening. She rubbed the side of her face and she glanced sideways, smirking tiredly at Jane. Hermione might as well have been invisible as Jane gazed, mesmerized, at her daughter while breastfeeding.

"You can go back to your room," Jane said eventually, biting her lip.

"I didn't repeat that ghastly version of 'Beam me up, Scottie,' to go back to my room, Jane," Hermione said, yawning despite herself. "I may doze off, but I'll be right here."

Smiling gratefully, Jane asked, "Do you want to hold her?"

Hermione carefully took the baby from Jane and sat back down, securing the cream-colored blanket tighter around the sleeping little girl. Regardless of the child's youth, Hermione reckoned the future queen of Asgard would look a great deal like her mother but have her father's coloring.

"You're a lovely one, aren't you?" Hermione whispered, skimming a finger over the baby's, pink and vein-y features.

"She's perfect," her cousin murmured, exhausted. She then laughed breathlessly, shaking her head. "I'm _not_ doing this again."

"You don't want a little boy who looks exactly like his daddy?" Hermione pouted playfully. "He'd be so cute."

"The Christakos line hasn't seen a boy in generations. With my luck, I do this again and get twin girls for being cheeky."

Laughing, Hermione snuggled Daphne closer and brushed a kiss against her forehead, inhaling her intoxicating baby scent.

Okay.

She wanted this.

Badly.

Very badly.

"I know that look," Jane said.

"Hm?"

Given her cousin's weakened state, Hermione was impressed she could waggle her eyebrows so enthusiastically.

"You want one."

"Well, they are kind of fun, aren't they?"

"You should have one."

Opening her mouth, about to respond, Hermione quickly closed it. Guilt pricked her when realizing how very little Jane knew about her. Her cousin knew the adorable tidbits like her favorite ice cream, foods, movies, and books; but she didn't know about Hermione being a witch or once being infertile. She didn't know about her relationship with Loki or the real reason why Hermione and Ron's marriage failed. Jane knew nothing of Hogwarts nor of Hermione's _real_ employment history.

One day Hermione would tell her cousin everything.

Clearing her throat, Hemrione finally said, "Do you think that quaint shop just outside the palace grounds is having a sale on them? I'd get one for each arm. They'd go fantastically with my new pair of cotton-candy pink Jimmy Choos."

"Oh, my God. Cotton-candy pink? Can I try them on?"

"What if I let you, and I never see them again? It will be like the blue Elsa's I let you borrow on your wedding day. You expected me to believe your chamber maid stole them."

"She _did_."

"Uh huh."

* * *

Two hundred warriors had marched into Jotunheim and forty-eight returned. One month following the birth of Daphne, Asgard's king and his significantly reduced army came home. A welcoming parade, meant to lift the spirits of the people, did little to shift the somber mood. Many mourned the one hundred and fifty-two who had fallen, and the three Jotunns bound and dragged from their home-world did little in softening the blow.

Loki was nowhere to be seen.

The parade and the people dispersed, and Jane welcomed her husband and the warriors home. Hermione retreated back to the palace and excused the caregiver Aili, taking a fussy Daphne into her arms, soothing her by humming a near-forgotten lullaby from her own childhood. Daphne quieted, and Hermione stared down at her half-lidded, tired eyes.

A while after Daphne succumbed to sleep and Hermione placed her in her bassinet, it became difficult for Hermione to think of anything but Loki's absence in the parade. He could've simply not wanted to participate and left the side of his king to come directly to the castle. She knew better, though. He would've come to her by now and from the aggrieved expression on Thor's face, the remnants of his army was not the only thing upsetting him.

Almost two hours after Hermione tended to Daphne, Jane finally entered the room and Thor followed behind. Ducking her head, Hermione left their master chambers and went to the library where she remained for another hour, leafing through tomes on the depth of Aesir magic. She pulled away from them when several members of the council passed by the library. Putting some distance between herself and the councilmen, she lagged behind them. Their cluster grew when several other members joined them as they drew closer to what Hermione called the conference room.

Slowing her steps, Hermione darted behind the closest column as the room filled. She slipped her hand inside the pouch tied low on her hips and touched her wand, silently casting several undetectable charms on herself before walking into the room behind Thor and Jane who were the last to arrive. He appeared only marginally better.

Mmm. Better wasn't the right word.

Hopeful. He appeared hopeful.

Meeting his newborn daughter and returning to his queen must've done him a little bit of good.

Pressing herself against the wall closest to the door, Hermione watched as the council members took their seat at the table, Thor being at the head of it. On his left, a seat remained empty and on his right, Jane sat beside him looking both solemn and uncomfortable. She positioned her head slightly dipped, her focus on the table, telling everyone in the room she would not be providing her two shillings. Hermione didn't fault her cousin for it. The game was archaic but worked well; a woman had more influence over her husband's decisions in their private quarters than with an audience. Jane had already said her piece to Thor before the meeting and would undoubtedly say more following it.

The moment every council member was seat, Thor stood from his chair and said, "Prince Loki is _not_ dead despite what you mutter amongst yourselves. He, as well as six others, were captured by the rebels a fortnight ago. When our allies won, I met with Jotunheim's new appointed queen and discovered the rebel leader slaughtered the six and imprisoned Loki. The fallen union handed him over to Queen Skaði, and she refuses to release him due to his actions against their realm three years ago."

Murmuring broke out and the volume escalated quickly. Many of them spoke of how Loki was fine where he was. Others were merely irked that Queen Skaði refused to hand over Loki after sacrificing so many warriors to help her gain a title.

"Silence!" Thor bellowed, bracing himself against the table. "The queen's refusal nearly sparked another battle. Our army was able to capture her two sons. They are in the dungeons as we speak. I intend a prisoner exchange."

"Your highness," a strong yet, grey haired woman spoke, "we made peace with Jotunheim after The Convergence. It's in _writing_. They became our allies, and our soldiers _died_ for it. Clearly, the new queen wants a war."

Another council member, this one a man and younger, spoke, "They don't want _another_ war. What they want is Loki to pay for his crimes against them. Under his brief time as king, did he not release the full power of the Bi-frost onto their realm? Did he not lure its past king into Asgard with lies in order to kill him? This kingdom was at peace with Jotunheim long before The Convergence but ended because of Prince Loki's misdeeds against them."

"You wish to leave him there," another council member replied, an elderly man.

"They want justice. Is it wrong to deny them such? My king," the younger man said to Thor, "I suggest you go through with the exchange. Instead of asking the queen for our prince, ask her on behalf of him for a fair trial."

Another wave of muttering swept throughout the room which ceased when two guards burst inside, one of them saying, "My king, the Princes of Jotunheim are dead. They killed themselves in their cells."

Silence deafened the room, and Thor rushed out into the corridors with the guards running behind him. Jane leaned further back into her chair and sighed heavily. Hermione could read her thoughts without even bothering to use magic.

 _My husband's home, but not really._

"My queen," said a council member, this one a young looking woman, "What do you suggest?"

The woman's tone was almost mocking, tinted lightly by humor. Jane merely stared at her as if she were looking at the council woman's chair rather than her. Uninterested and uncaring. The woman was part of the pretty décor of the room and nothing more.

When Jane managed to speak up, she asked softly, "Who are you again?"

Hermione cracked a smile despite the void hallowing her insides. Though Jane struggled with the absence of Thor, she hardened in the face of the court and council by blatantly ignoring their prattle concerning her incompetence and by taking up a passive-aggressive front.

Thor soon returned to dismiss the council, and Hermione kept her pace behind him and Jane as they shuffled from corridor to corridor.

"What are you going to do?" Jane asked, once she and Thor were out of earshot from others.

"I know what I _want_ to do," Thor replied, grim. He then exhaled sharply and shook his head. "And I can't. None of them were concerned of Loki. They're thinking political. I-"

"It's personal. I know." Jane stopped when they reached a smaller corridor and took Thor's hand in hers.

"What if he's suffering? These pathways the council offer take time. Loki may not have that. He may be dead for all I know. The princes killed each other in their cells because they knew of my purpose for them. They wanted my brother exactly where he is. I cannot retrieve him unless I use force." Thor's frowned deepened as he peered out the window several feet away from them. "Maybe…there's something else I can give. An offer they couldn't refuse."

Jane stepped closer to him, a wrinkled worrying her brow. "What do you have in mind?"

"The Casket of Ancient Winters."

"No, no, no," Hermione whispered, chastising, and willed her cousin have the same reaction.

Jane shook her head and grasped his other hand. "If the exchange goes south, they could have Loki _and_ the Casket."

Annoyed, Thor sharply asked, "What would you have me do? Allow my brother to remain on Jotunheim until everyone on the council agrees on a single notion?"

"I don't know what to do, Thor. I'm even more clueless. What I do know is that the Casket is a very bad move." Jane rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sorry, but we'll figure something out. I have to feed Daphne. I'll see you at dinner tonight."

The moment Hermione could no longer hear Jane's footsteps, she saw Thor's spine stiffen, and he said, "When we first met, I could have sworn I detected Midgardian magic on you. I thought it a fluke, but I know better now. You've hidden long enough, Lady Hermione. Reveal yourself."

Hermione paused and then touched her wand, removing the charms coating her from eyesight and earshot. Thor's gaze hardened once he could see her, and he said, "Do you always render yourself invisible in such delicate matters that don't concern you?"

"Not always." She stepped closer to him and lifted her chin. "I can help you."

"I don't want your help, witch. I'm not even sure I want you on Asgard anymore."

"I can save your brother."

Thor clenched his fists, saying nothing. Hermione chanced another step closer and said, "You don't like politics. They take time. I understand. And war? It's a messy art, and you're not quite ready to forfeit more paint. Your leverage is gone. You know a rescue mission is your brother's best chance."

"You suggest I gather a party of warriors."

"No. I said _I_ can save your brother."

"You?" He chuckled mirthlessly. "You want me to put Loki's life in the hands of my wife's cousin? You think you can withstand Jotunheim with your tricks? Loki has magic more powerful than your own, and he was still captured. I'd rather send my most trusted."

"Forgive me, Thor. Lady Sif and The Warriors Three don't care about your brother."

"And you do?" Thor's frown then deepened, and she could see the cogs rolling behind his eyes. "Even so, I can't send you-"

"I'll send myself, thanks," Hermione said, folding her arms. "I'm doing this with or without your permission. _You're welcome_."

Frustrated, Thor hissed, "Your magic does not qualify you to be so reckless."

 _Hypocrite!_

"You hardly know anything about me. Rescue missions were once considered another day at the office for me. I can and will fetch Loki _with_ my tricks which served me well in the past. Give me a week."

"Even if I were to agree to this nonsense, there's no way I could tell the council nor Jane. There are too many ways this rescue mission of yours could fail. What am I to tell Jane of your death? She'd hold me responsible for not stopping you. She'd never…" He sighed a ragged breath, his expression stricken. "I'd lose both her and my brother."

His words made her hesitate. She hadn't thought of the impact her failure would bring if her plan did not succeed. Failure was something almost foreign to her. Yes, she could die, and her loved ones would mourn, but her death ending a marriage—a family—wasn't something she considered.

Looking down at floor, Hermione swallowed and said, "I'm not going to wait for your kingdom to figure out what the next step is. I don't have to play by the rules. I'm not from here. If by chance I'm caught, they can't trace me back here. I'll tell them lies and Jane? She'll never know. She never has to. I'll tell her I forgot to take care of a few matters on Earth and will return shortly. If I die, say there was a traffic accident or something."

"Those are a lot of lies, Hermione."

"Then by all means, tell her the truth and see what happens."

Thor grit his teeth, flaring his nostrils. "Were you like this before you met Loki?" He shook his head and waved dismissively. "Go. Go before I change my mind and inform Jane of everything, including what I know of your magic and your relationship with my brother. But mark my words, Lady Hermione, I will not lie to my wife ever again. Not for you or anyone, no matter the circumstances."

"I don't know if I find that admirable or naïve," she said, her gaze drifting to the window. She needed to ready herself quickly if she wanted to leave Asgard by nightfall. "The sooner I leave, the better Loki's chances are."

Taking her hand before she could leave, he tenderly clasped it. "Do you love him?"

"With all due respect, this is hardly the ti—"

"Do you love him?" he repeated, gruff and earnest. She suppressed the urge to wince from the increasing pressure of his fingers. She looked into his eyes and knew he wouldn't let her go unless she answered _correctly_. As of now, Loki's life depended on her, and Thor was desperate to know he wasn't making a mistake in trusting someone who was practically a strange to save him.

"Sometimes," Hermione confessed. "He…makes it difficult."

A ghost of a smile drifted over Thor's features, and he kissed the back of her hand. The tension in his shoulders relax, his apprehensiveness melting away. "You may have whatever you need for the journey—weapons, armor, it's yours."

"I'd prefer unlimited access to the palace's apothecary and the libraries."

"It would be wise to bear a weapon."

" _I'm_ the weapon." She'd been put on the wrack for a number of years, but a bit of dusting and polishing should spruce herself up just fine.

Thor smiled, patronizing, and untied a holster from his hips and presented her a sheathed dagger. "This is my brother's. Use it in case your tricks fail you."

Begrudgingly, she accepted the dagger and for the time being, secured it around her waist. The dagger hung opposite of her pouch.

"I'll prepare a horse to take you to the Bi-frost at dawn tomorrow," Thor said.

"I'll be leaving before dinner."

* * *

By sunset, Hermione found herself dressed in Midgardian attire. She had considered wearing Aesir armor but decided against it. She couldn't chance the Jotunns tracing her back to Asgard. With that in mind, she donned two thick pairs of leggings, internally padded lace-up boots, a thick sweater, and a zip-up hooded jacket. In the beaded bag slung around her shoulder, she had much more layers and clothing to spare.

As promised, Thor offered her a horse for her journey to the Bi-frost which she took. When she came to the end of Asbru Bridge, she dismounted and walked the platform Heimdall stood upon.

"You are dressed too warm for the season, Lady Hermione," he said.

She clutched her bag and looked back at him, asking, "Do you see him?"

"The Jotunns have shrouded the prince well. I cannot take you directly to him."

"Then take me to a place that won't alert any of the natives. Please."

Heimdall bowed his head at her, and Hermione walked around his platform while he opened the Bi-frost.

The journey to Jotunhiem was similar to that of leaving and going to Earth. Hermione kept her eyes shut until she landed on solid ground. With the absence of the Bi-frosts beam, the impossibly icy air assaulted her, and her lungs smarted with each breath. Her knees buckled, and she stooped into a crouching position to preserve warmth. Never had she been so cold in her life.

Refraining from licking her lips, Hermione pulled out her wand from the bag and cast a warming spell upon herself. Her shivering stopped, and she was able to focus on her barren surroundings. Crumbles of rock and what could have been pillars some time ago littered the ground around her. Casting a spell to remove the imprint left from of the Bi-frost, she then magicked herself invisible and started walking. The earth felt brittle beneath her boots. So brittle in fact, she believed if she were to stamp her feet, Jotunheim would crack into chunks and disperse along Yggdrasil, peppering the eight other realm with its hideousness.

The sky was dark, and Hermione recalled reading a book in the palace library how the realm lacked a sun. She wanted to ignite the tip of her wand but thought better of it. Instead, she conjured a slightly illuminated, blue ball to give herself comfort.

Several hours, perhaps four, went by before Hermione needed to stop and rest. Her ball bobbed impatiently next to her ear. Her warming charm began to fade, and she fished out a canteen of warm water from her bag, allowing herself only small sips. She then cast another warming spell on herself again before continuing her trek.

Her eyes grew heavy as did her legs. Her feet ached, and Hermione knew she soon needed to recharge. As badly as she wanted to rescue Loki, she wouldn't succeed if she lacked the energy.

Forcing herself to the point of exhaustion, Hermione finally gave into her body's needs and took out a bed sheet from her bag, transfiguring it into a makeshift tent only large enough to shelter herself for the night. She then made up a bed with the blankets and pillows she packed. Before crawling beneath the covers, she cast one more warming spell around her and then drifted into an unfit sleep.

However long later, Hermione stirred awake when hearing voices outside of her makeshift tent. Her heart dropped low in her stomach and stayed still, even going so far as to hold her breath, while listening carefully to the conversation merely a few feet away. The wind howled loudly, making it difficult to catch every word.

"…yet to arrange an exchange…"

"...queen expected…refuses…"

"…Asgard's prince…traitor to all…"

The two voices were masculine and growing louder while the sound of footsteps did, as well.

Soon, two figures walked by her tent, one of them carrying a torch that allowed Hermione to decipher their large frames through the tent's material. One of them slowed and then came to a stop, inhaling sharply.

"I smell something…"

"...sweet."

Curling her fingers around her wand, Hermione sniffed her hair. They smelt her conditioner.

"Where's it coming from?" one of the giants asked, stepping closer to the tent.

"There is," said the other, "strange magic."

Hastily, Hermione removed her cloaking spell and Disapperated, appearing behind the two giants, their naked backs facing her. They had flinched at the popping sound of her movement, and she took advantage of their semi-shaken state to temporarily blind them with a spell and then _Stupefy_ them. When they fell, the ground rattled a bit and she gazed upon their slacked faces, and cast an _Obliviate_ at one. The other, she conjured tight, strong ropes to bind him to the frozen earth—three around his neck, several around each arm, each leg, and his torso. She then cast a resilient, widespread _Muffliato_.

With a _Finite Incantatum_ , she removed the _Stupefy_ on the bound giant but left him blind. She stood off to the side of him and watched him struggle with his bindings and call out for help.

"They can't hear you," she said, and the giant stilled, his sightless eyes jerking in her direction.

"Who are you?" he growled. His struggling started again, two of the bindings snapping on his legs. She replaced them and tightened the ropes around his neck, spelling them to constrict as the giant thrashed. He quickly caught on and soon calmed enough to glare at a large boulder beside her and bare his sharp teeth.

"You have my attention," he said.

"What is your name?"

"What is yours?"

A Stinging Jinx to his knee had him gritting his teeth and cursing her in an unknown language. His marked, blue chest heaved and eventually he said, "Agmundr."

"Agmundr, where is my mentor?"

"I have no idea what you sp-ahhh!"

Another Stinging Jinx, this one to his lower gut, had the giant quivering in pain.

"I don't relish in your misery, Jotunn, but my actions are necessary until you provide the information I need. Your realm has imprisoned my mentor. Tell me where I can find him, and no further harm will come upon you."

"You're scent is not of Asgard." The giant's tone indicated his confusion. "Who sent you?"

A magical blow to the chest left the giant gasping for breath. He panted raggedly and spat in her direction. The spittle landed nowhere near her.

"Myself," she stated. "Tell me where Loki of Asgard is."

"I don't know."

"Pity, that. Are you sure? Because I'd rather not harm you or your companion. He looks so _young_. You two resemble each other. Are you brothers?"

From the way the giant began to struggle against the ropes again, Hermione got her answer.

"You'll strangle yourself and then where will we be?" she chided, clucking her tongue. "You die, I have no choice but to move my interrogation onto him."

"The Silvertongue deserves his sentence. He must pay for his crimes against this realm!"

"I don't care."

The giant chuckled mirthlessly which concluded into a dry cough. "I suppose you do not."

"Your rules and laws mean nothing to me. All what matters is that I've been without my mentor for some time. It's unacceptable."

"You are better off without him, I promise you that."

"Your words bore me, Jotunn. I'll give you one more chance to tell me where I can find Loki of Asgard. You don't take it, your younger brother will feel my disappointment."

"You're lying."

Yes. Yes, she was. Damn.

Getting closer, Hermione pointed her wand at Agmundr's head. "I apologize. This going to be extremely unpleasant for you. _Legilimens_ _!_ "

Unfortunately, the giant didn't know the exact location of Loki, for he was a little more than a civilian according to his memories. However, by word of mouth he'd been told Jotunheim's prisoner was within the vicinity of the old palace ruins. The area was heavily secured, patrols at all hours and at all times.

Sighing, Hermione cast another _Stupefy_ on the giant and wiped his memories of the last twenty minutes. She did the same to his brother before packing up her tent and supplies, as well as the ball of light she conjured. Placing the appropriate charms and spells upon herself, she left the giants unbound and unconscious and told her locating ball to take her to the outskirts of the palace ruins.

Hermione hadn't walked for long before she began to see more frost giants. Soon, she found herself in the middle of a community setting where many of them appeared to be rebuilding devastated structures. Because of the series of cloaking spells, they paid her no mind as she marched through the village.

Several hours went by, and Hermione trekked through vast expanses of jagged, earthy nothingness as well as through villages and towns, some of them deserted and destroyed while others were under reconstruction.

From what she noticed of the Jotunns, aside from the young children, they were an unhappy race. Not only that, they seemed to rely heavily on handcrafted weapons and tools. Their magic was old world-complex and strenuous in practice. Their technology was lacking compared to Asgard's and, in many ways, Earth's.

The unhappiness could very well be from the war they recently suffered, but there was something ancient about their hardened behavior and sneers to the few who dared smile genuinely. Like it was an original sin to have hope, even momentarily. Hermione saw these manners in both the former rebels and those for the new regime. A new queen with new revolutions to help improve the state of the realm had very little value.

Weariness crept upon her, and the muscles of her legs and ankles ached from overuse. Another day must be coming to a close, and she needed to rest. She walked a few more paces until reaching a large boulder to lean against. The coldness of it poked at her warming charms as she sipped at her warm water. The blue ball of light bobbed beside her and then hummed. She wiped her mouth and stared at it before climbing up a bit on the boulder and looking over the top of it. A desolate, ruin-filled valley greeted her. At least one hundred frost giants were littered about the region, thirty or so of them clustered inside a barely standing temple.

While hashing out her next move, the wind's howls died down, and Hermione stilled when hearing what they had obscured. Screaming echoing off the valley walls assaulted her ears, and made her gut turn to lead. The shrieks were of anguish and deep suffering. It was a sound she'd never think or believe could come from Loki.

It _was_ him.

Eyes narrowing on the temple, she clenched her wand and began descending into the valley.

* * *

 **A/N** : As mentioned in the first chapter, the story hops around.

Please review and tell me your thoughts on the story/chapter. It's kind of fun to write, and I'd like to know what you think. I'm still up for answering questions and responding to comments. Feel free to PM me, as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** This chapter takes place right after Chapter 2. I will forewarn of some possible OOC of our beloved characters in this chapter.

Please review and tell me your thoughts. I apologize for any errors. This chapter was a rough one.

* * *

 **February 2014**

 _"Now, Thor. Did not mother do away with bigamy? As your primary advisor, I cannot condone you reinvent that particular marital law. I suggest you return this new attachment to whichever blind salesman you purchased her from. Unless…you intend to keep her as a concubine. Then by all means, my king, I ask that you exchange her for a younger, possibly un-plucked version. This one wreaks of overuse. Like the future queen of Asgard."_

Looking up from her napkin-covered lap, Hermione stared at Loki, and she felt Jane's fingers loosen in her grasp, eventually pulling away. Thor said something Hermione didn't quite catch, though his tone spoke of annoyance and admonishment.

At first sight, Loki wasn't much in comparison to his brother, or admittedly, to the palace guards. The man's ghostly complexion and raven-haired-abstract tones were stark in the face of the warm, golden hues of the Aesir people and the architecture of the palace.

However.

The longer Hermione studied him, she soon corrected herself. Absorbing the sharp angles of his features, the sinewy leanness beneath the soft-material of his green and black frock, the intellectual focus of his turquoise gaze, and the elegant length of his fingers; Hermione reevaluated her initial assumption. Loki was neither plain nor ugly. Quite the opposite, actually.

Loki's smirk widened into a smile, and it was so disarming that she snapped out of her analyzing and recalled where she was and who she was joining for breakfast. Even more importantly, she remembered what exactly the monster said about her and her cousin.

Leaning back in her chair, she watched Loki pick up his glass goblet of chilled tea. The rim centimeters from his lips, the goblet shattered into shards, thick and jagged pieces. Instinctively, he flinched and reeled back from the sharp chunks. His palm didn't fair so well.

Jane flinched at the sight and then laughed, muffling her mirth with a fist. Thor, amusedly, said, "Loki, it does seem the Norns aren't too pleased with your distasteful quips, either." He quickly sobered. "You don't know your own strength, brother. Do be more careful."

"Don't just sit there like a gaping fish," Odin chided at Loki, who stared confusedly at his bloodied, wounded hand. "Either tend to it now or go to the infirmary."

Loki glared at both his father and brother, waving his uninjured hand over the other, the embedded glass pieces leaping out of the skin. He repeated the motion, and the gaping cuts cinched closed. The pile of gored debris disappeared with a flick of his wrist, and he leaned back in his chair, resting his elbow on the arm rest and rubbing his bottom lip pensively as he stared intently on where the glass had once been.

Hermione found herself staring at _him_ again. Good God, he was distracting, and his entire being was precise and coordinated and graceful.

He was just _sitting_ there.

His magic wasn't half-bad, either.

"So, concubine," Loki murmured, his eyes still on the table, "Where did my brother purchase you?"

" _I'm sorry!"_ hissed Jane, her expression apologetic. "He's impossible."

Hermione patted her hand and sent an understanding look to Thor and then Odin who looked as if he wanted to ask the same question as Loki. "It's fine. _Really_. Sometimes children take time to become housebroken. Give him another millennium. He'll be like a fine wine you only bring out of his cellar for certain guests. Undoubtedly, he'll be an acquired taste. Unlike now." She smirked. "I do believe, Loki, you are the one un-plucked. There, you are…so unripe…still on the vine and too sour for _anyone_ to even bother with."

Jane squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in sharply. Her lips pressed together, and her shoulders stuttered.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione cooed at a glowering Loki. "Was that impolite? Forgive me, sometimes I say truthful things. It's probably hard to hear, given what and who you are. You pride yourself in lies, and to tell you a little bit about myself—the concubine—I prefer truth. Lies. They twist and turn and bleed and mold into something harmful. In my experience, being honest is so much more…damaging. There is only _one_ truth. Its fundamental properties cannot be changed. You hit a person with that, you can unman them. For good."

"You know, I think I'll take breakfast in my room on the balcony," Jane piped up, grasping Hermione's forearm, bruising. "You're coming with."

Hermione got up and smiled innocently. "We were having such a lovely time."

"I know. I'm no fun. Now let's go."

Dragging behind her cousin, she glanced back at Loki. "W _onderful_ meeting you."

"Please stop talking."

Hermione giggled.

The second they were in the privacy of Jane's chambers, Jane shirked her shawl which had helped obscure her itty, bitty baby-bump and shook her head, chuckling while sending Hermione an incredulous expression.

"Oh, my God. I love you," she whispered, amazed. "But I had to get you out of there before my future father-in-law wrapped his senile head around the fact someone besides himself dared to call Loki out on his awfulness. He's the only one who's allowed to really get after Loki. Thor can, to an extent. It's a dad thing, I guess."

Hanging up her shawl, Jane bit her lip and looked away. "I was never able to handle rude people like you do. Which is funny, given my career path. You can just rip them apart in seconds while I'm debating whether or not the insults are worth crying over."

"People like Loki aren't worth crying over, Jane. His insult was petty and so far off the mark, it was sad. He's been giving you shit since you got here, hasn't he?"

Jane shrugged, saying nothing.

"He's clearly running out of material if he has to resort to false accusations on your past dealings with men. He'll tire himself out soon enough. You're getting married tomorrow morning, and he's a loathsome monster who's going to die alone."

Her cousin smiled sadly. "I'm glad you're nice to me. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of your _honesty_."

Yes, Hermione reckoned her cousin would, indeed, hate it.

When a servant brought a trolly of food into the room and scooted it onto the balcony, Hermione and Jane sat on the quaint, round wooden table enjoying the fresh, balmy air and warm sun. They sampled piping hot pastries, spiced apples, juicy figs, buttered bread, and goat's milk while Jane explained all she knew about Loki's history. Hermione listened attentively, compiling sects of information for later use. Loki was a force to behold and appeared to have it out for her the moment he saw her. As a (heavily decorated) war veteran, Hermione would be a fool not to prepped for battle.

After finishing their breakfast, they sat in silence whilst overlooking Asgard, basking in the view and the crisp, unpolluted air that seemed hard to find on Earth. In the distance, clouds crept towards the more populated parts of the kingdom, their white, yellowish color gradually darkening. Jane pinned them with a mildly concerned frown before saying, "I need to show you the library. You'll totally freak."

The library was rather impressive. Hermione smiled somewhat excitedly over her shoulder only to see Jane gone. She frowned and called out for her cousin and went to the entrance, poking her head out into the corridor in time to see Jane round the corner at the end of it. Rolling her eyes and scoffing, Hermione retreated into the library, knowing her cousin left her here to keep busy when tending to something or other.

"I'll be fine," she said, irritated, to the table in front of her. She walked up to it and saw that the surface was a magically illuminated painting of the tree of Yggdrasil. She touched one of the realms, and it sprung to life, lifting away from the table and hovering close to her sight. The 3D rendition was circular in shape and depicted a land of fire and smoldering black earth. Her palm hovered close to the projection and was shocked to feel heat from it.

"Dreadful place, Muspelheim."

Hermione snapped her attention upwards to see Loki leaning against the railing directly above her of the library's second level. He smiled down at her and slowly walked towards the spiral staircase. As he descended, she replied, "There are worse places to be."

His eyebrows arched. "Are there?"

"I can't say I'm terribly thrilled with my whereabouts, although…" Hermione made a show of taking a gander at the library, "I really shouldn't punish a place dedicated to enhancing intellect due to the present company."

Loki laughed breathily, arriving on the main level. He shot her an appraising look. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"What was?"

He hid his hands behind his back and gave her a pointed stare. "My glass goblet. You broke it."

Mimicking his stance with her hands locked behind herself, she stole a step closer to him. "You flatter me, Prince Loki." She bowed and then lifted her chin, glancing up at him through slanted eyes. "Truly." Straightening, she added, "For thinking me capable of an act laughably beyond my capabilities as a mortal…and concubine."

"I know it was you."

When he was standing right in front of her, Hermione tilted her head up, her eyes sliding up the pale column of his throat before settling on his face. A half-smile graced her lips, and she said, "It wasn't."

She went to brush passed him, but he took ahold of her arm and forced her close to him. Irate flames ignited inside her as she tried to jerk out of his grasp.

"Let go of me, or I'll scream."

He paid no mind to her threat and brought her the heel of her hand to his nose. He breathed in deeply, the tip of his nose skimming from her wrist to the crease of her elbow. She slapped him on the cheek, and he let go of her. He rubbed where she hit him and said, "Usually one would lose their hand for daring to harm a prince, but that was simply adorable. It'd be like punishing a kitten. Tell me, _Lady Hermione_ , does Jane know what you are?"

"I'm not anything, you creep," she said, rubbing the inside of her arm on her dress.

"So the magic I feel and smell on you is all in my head? Hmm."

"I'm sure there all kinds of peculiarities inside that messed up brain of yours. The thing in New York, and your arrival in Stuttgart. I can't imagine. You'd be a therapist's wet dream or worst nightmare. I can't decide."

"Therapist," he said, testing the word. "A Midgardian term, I presume." He flicked his fingers, pursing his lips. "No matter. What concerns me is your presence here on Asgard. I believed your kind died out centuries ago. Alas, here you are. Why? Were you sent here by your superiors to further your primitive power?"

Blinking owlishly, Hermione stared at him slack-jawed and then laughed. "Oh, sweetie, I'm afraid you are beyond help. Lock yourself away _now_ before more innocents get hurt."

"You are no relative of Jane," he accused, the playful spark in his eyes hardening into malicious suspicion. He stepped away from her and started to circle her like a predator about to pounce on its prey.

Hermione did not have a witty comeback for that. The interrogation had taken an unexpected turn. Frowning disapprovingly at him, she folded her arms and said, "Our mothers are sisters."

"Do not take me for a fool."

"I'll take you anyway I please. First, you accuse me of breaking your glass and having _magic_. Next, you're saying Jane and I aren't cousins. You tell me something, Prince Loki. Do you treat _all_ other worldly guests this way, or am I just special?"

Loki lunged at her, clenching her arms below the shoulders and squeezing hard. He got in her face, their noses brushing, and hissed, "Midgardian magic is inherited, and Jane is as mortal as they come. You, witch, discovered my brother's whore and saw an opportunity. You spelled her into believing you two were related." He grabbed her jaw and moved her face upwards. "You probably even cast a glamour on yourself as to not arouse suspicion in hopes she would extend an invitation for you to come to Asgard with her. Or perhaps you forced her. How long have you been fooling everyone? Because it ends today."

Hermione thinned her lips and sneered at him. "Jane is not a whore."

"Have you not been listening? It's over. The ruse, the trick is done. Your last spell will be undoing whatever you did to your _supposed_ cousin."

"You're insane! Are you even hearing yourself?!"

"Or maybe I'll have to lift whatever blockage or additive you placed on her. Memory magic was never my strongest suit. I may damage her in the process. She may even turn into a drooling mess. An empty shell. It hardly matters, doesn't it? As long as she's not under your control, nor is she in control of Asgard and its king. In a way. I guess you indirectly helped me get exactly what I wanted… _Oh_."

The menacing look on his face dissolved into a look of triumphant when Hermione shoved the tip of her wand deeper into his pulse point below his jaw.

"Ah, now. Was that so hard?" he crooned.

"It was all a game to you, wasn't it?" she growled.

"Your confession wasn't coming as quickly as expected. I had to improvise." He looped his longer fingers around the wrist. "You can put your silly, little stick away. I'm not going to harm your dear, precious cousin. My attention is preoccupied by something else entirely."

In a blink, Hermione was sitting at plain, wooden table in a partially enclosed space, three wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves surrounding her. In the middle of the table was jug and two ceramic goblets. Loki then brushed by her, sitting directly across the table from her. He gestured to jug and said, "Would you care for some chilled tea, splashed with Elderberry wine?"

"Where are we?" she asked, her wand pointing at him.

"We're still in the library. On the second level's study room. Not a terrible place for a conversation. I want to ask a few question." He poured a bit of liquid into a goblet and saluted her with it. "I wasn't lying when I said I believed your kind extinct. I'm subpar on Midgardian history. When Christianity swept your realm, it no longer became interesting, and my studies of Earth slowed significantly. I do recall Europe's fascination with hunting and killing those with magical ability, though."

Hermione glared at him. "I'm in no mood to give you a history lesson."

"Speak or I'll let slip of what you really are. It's not just I who was told of your people's extinction. You'd strike worry in all of Asgard. Already some accuse your cousin of accumulating magic from some place or other and bewitching Thor. Give them a reason, Lady Hermione. You and Jane shall be roped to a stake and set afire by sunset."

"Go ahead," she challenged. "And when you do, I'll be sure announce to the citizens of Asgard-from my respected stake-your true heritage, The Bastard Prince Loki of Jotunheim. Am I correct in thinking but a handful know who you really are? I wonder how you'll fair after that bit of information comes to light."

"It appears," he said gravely, his hand tightening in a fist, "Jane is incapable of keep her mouth shut."

"Oh, I speculated." Hermione reflected on her childhood readings of the _Prose_ and _Post Edda._ "Jane merely confirmed it."

"Does that frighten you? Disgust you, even?" he asked, venomous.

"...no...?" she said, surprised from his questions. "Your roots mean nothing to me. Clearly, they mean something to yourself and your peers, thus, the reason I'd rant to everyone about them if you chose to be the one who's incapable of keeping their mouth shut. You are not the only one who is good at being petty."

Loki leaned back in his chair, one set of long fingers drumming on the arm rest while the other tapped at lips, thoughtfully. "Forgive me. I'm finding it difficult to believe you don't see me as a monster."

"I do see you as monster," she said, unconsciously lowering her wand, "because of your actions. They speak louder than words. They show more of yourself than your origins do. You are what you are because of what you made yourself. If you're pointing fingers and placing blame on ridiculous things such as birthplace to take responsibility of your crimes, then you are as much a coward as you are monster. Own up to your dealings."

"Like a king," he said, chuckling mirthlessly like he was thinking of a private joke.

"Like a man." She stood up from her chair and cast him a sideways glance. "As I said, maybe in a millennium."

Leaving him at the table, she exited the study room and into the narrow hallway, going by instinct to find her way out of the stacks. When she reached the balcony overlooking the main level, she saw Loki standing at the Yggdrasil tree table and sipping at a cup of tea. She ignored him while climbing down the stairs and wondered at the length of his abilities. She could jump through space and time, as well, but not silently. Or even gracefully. Apparating was a peril on the body and brain. Those who effortlessly walked a straight line after going from London to Wiltshire in two seconds were concentrating very hard not to fall over and die in their own sick, let alone a few hundred feet.

She asked the two guards standing outside to escort her to the kitchen. They stared at her carefully and then glanced at one another.

"I have something I need to do for my cousin," she explained.

One of them nodded, and both marched her to the main level of the castle. She expected them to lead her back to the dining hall, for there was a connecting door from the kitchens. However, they brought her to another heavy, wooden swing door and warned her of how crowded and terribly busy the areas were due to the celebrations taking place the following day.

Through the thick barrier, Hermione heard the sound of a solid piece of glass colliding with the floor.

"I'll be all right," she told them and darted through the door, keeping herself as close the walls of the kitchen as possible. Bakers and chefs and kitchen maids zipped from cooking station to cooking station. Very few actually noticed her.

The kitchens consisted of five adjoining rooms, each with their own special pantry. Hermione needed to find the right pantry, and the third room, she did. Squeezing into the already crowded, enclosed space, she smiled at a baker while her fingers brushed two or three handfuls of almonds into a ceramic bowl she stole from the counter.

The baker opened his mouth, and she quickly interjected by saying, "For Lady Jane."

He cinched his mouth shut and nodded curtly before saying stiffly, "What else does she require?"

"Sugar and spices."

"I haven't time for her whims, my lady," he said, exhaling gruffly. "Not with the wedding tomorrow and all. Surely the king's choice knows this. If you must cater to her, find a space and do what you must."

Hermione scowled at him and wanted to remind him that Jane had a name and would very well have a title the next day. He should show a little respect, the prick.

She said nothing and allowed him to get what he needed from the pantry and took her dish of almonds and went in search for the necessary ingredients. Twenty minutes later, she was standing in a half-forgotten corner in the fifth kitchen, hovering over an open flame and a pot boiling water. She went to dump a handful of sugar into the pot and jerked when Loki said from behind her, "This is where you ran off to? How silly."

Letting the sugar fall into the water, she picked up her wooden spoon and replied, "Go away."

He laughed and stepped closer to her to peer over her shoulder. "What in the Allfather's name are you doing?"

"I'm making a poison."

"With sugar?"

"That and the water covers and dilutes the taste as well as the effects. It slows the death rather than quickens it."

"Who are you giving it to?" He was amused.

"I'm only replacing what I've already used," she said softly, "How _was_ your midmorning tea in the library? _Too_ sugary." She nodded solemnly, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon. "I was afraid of that. Stupid me. I went off lore. Word has it, you have a sweet tooth."

"How is it that I can be both _monstrously_ sour and sweet, Lady Hermione? Ah. I must be incredibly talented."

"One can fancy desserts and be a horrible person. Like Bonaparte."

"Who?"

"You would've liked him. He was a monster and didn't particularly care for freedom either."

"You Midgardians and your disillusions about freedom. If any of you were offered true freedom, you wouldn't know what to do with yourselves. I stand by what I said during my brief visit to your world. You crave subjugation. Take your separated spices for example." He gestured to the bowl beside her. "They are not mixed. Why ever not? Are they not going to be combined anyway in whatever you are preparing? Despite the end result, you still desire to have order."

"Yes," she said, facing him. " _My_ order."

"You wish to rule." He grinned, pleased, and tucked a stray curl behind her ear that had sprung loose from her hair-comb. She refrained from shivering when his fingers brushed against her skin. "I admire that."

"To rule my own life."

He grasped her left wrist and raised her hand, his eyes lingering on her wedding ring. "Did you not swear to obey your husband? Did he not vow his life to you? Marriage is a form of subjugation and a forfeit of freedom."

"Words like that and it's a wonder how women just flock to you. Oh, wait. Jane told me they don't," Hermione said, laughing. "A man apprehensive of commitment. How…refreshing. And, not that you care, I have never and would never swear to obey anyone."

"Your cousin is swearing her life away to a world that's not her own and a husband who isn't expected to reciprocate the same sentiment. I was only half-joking about the concubine jab this morning, and Thor has never been faithful to one woman. He's only marrying her because of the abomination their carelessness created."

"You're lying."

"You would like to think so."

Hermione shook her head, steady and calm. "I'll accept your brother is a slag. For all I know, he could've raped a few—"

Loki's grip on her arm turned bruising. "Don't you ever insin—"

"—women in the heat of war. I won't, however, accept that the _abomination_ he made with my cousin was due to carelessness. You see, Prince Loki, I find it terribly suspicious Thor never before impregnated a woman. As we both agree, his Mighty Hammer has struck multiple foundations, and I'm sure a few lightning bolts have slipped passed the cracks. _And_ according to Midgardian lore, he's a fertility god. Now, that sounds like he has the power to reproduce at will." Hermione brushed off a bit of flour that settled on Loki's shoulder. "He got Jane pregnant on purpose because he knew he couldn't have her any other way with that iffy betrothal to Sif blockading him.

"Now…don't get me wrong. Your charming brother isn't without a brain, but…I can't say for certain he thought of this plan by himself. Someone with a bit more…shrewdness had to have nudged him, which is incredibly odd since no one in Asgard likes Jane. I can't think of anyone who would want her to be queen. Not even you. Especially you. Yet…you _are_ the one who whispered into Thor's ear and showed him a way he could have everything. Why? How could you possibly benefit from any of this?"

He unclasped her arm and stepped back. "I'm afraid your confection is no longer useful."

Hermione checked over shoulder and sighed. The water had dissolved enough to thicken the consistency more than she had wanted. It had started sticking to the sides of the pot, burning. Blast!

Loki had disappeared, and she started over on making a simple syrup. As she tended to the gently thickening liquid, she wondered how she was going to handle the God of Mischief popping in and out of her existence for the next few days. He was clearly fascinated by her as a magical being and possibly as a woman.

God, it was almost laughable. If he was barking up _her_ tree, then he must be very desperate. He must've not had a companion for ages and couldn't find one here in Asgard given his recent endeavors on Earth and during his brief time as king. Plus, being homebound, he had to be living a forced life a celibacy.

She sort of knew the feeling.

She and Ron hadn't…well…in a very long time.

With all their problems, though, and her condition, she had rarely been in the mood. Darcy, believing she needed to 'warm up', snuck a porn film into the DVD player at Jane's house, and Hermione hightailed it out of the house once the secondary school professor told his student to get on her knees and give him a good reason to pass her. Hermione was raised by a starchy, Victorian-esque mother who loved Jesus and had preached of propriety and purity and prudery. Every time she saw a love scene in a film or a pair of breasts, Hermione cringed and covered her face like she was nine years old again and mortified beyond reason. Like she hadn't a pair of her own or had her fair share of lovemaking.

A married life to a decently-endowed husband was not without perks. She and Ron had some pleasant times before everything got shipped first class to hell.

The thing was…Hermione _liked_ sex. She really, really did. She liked the idea of it, and she liked thinking about it. She didn't even mind reading about it sometimes. She just didn't like to _watch_ it.

Darcy had called her a goody-goody, prude-prude. Well, Hermione in her married life had more sex, both raunchy and sleazy, than Darcy could ever dream of, so that pillowy-lipped American could 'suck it' like the lovely Cat Blanchett said to Julia Roberts at the Oscars.

Hermione was getting sidetracked and venturing off topic. The point was…to be wary of Loki. She may be aware of his tricks, but she didn't know them, and she doubted he was only limited to magic and lies. He more than likely perfected the art of seduction.

And Hermione would be lying to herself if she said she didn't find him at all appealing, monster or not. She wasn't blind nor a robot.

Whilst her almonds soaked in the syrup, she rifled through the pantry that held the tea, selecting something smelling similar to strong, plain black tea.

Her fresh mug of tea cooling, she tossed the almonds in the spices, coating them thoroughly before sprinkling them on a tray and sticking them in the wooden stove. They caramelized fairly quickly, and she put them in a dining dish. With her modest makings, she left the kitchen and chuckled in annoyance at seeing her two guards still waiting in the corridor.

"Will you take me to my cousin's chambers?"

They guided her up the flights of stairs, and she entered the quarters, setting the bowl on the vanity to fetch her overnight bag which housed her beloved beaded bag. Inside the bag, she pulled out a delicate, white and lacy cloth and placed the almonds in the center of it, tying it off with a ribbon. She perched the gift on Jane's pillow, slung her beaded bag over her shoulder, and then left the room; the guards leading her back to the library.

Her eyes scanned over the numerous stacks on the first level and those that she could see on the second. Where was she going to begin? Astronomy, perhaps.

Groaning, she searched for the section having to do with stars and found herself upstairs, flipping through flawless chartering of the stars and planets surrounding Asgard. Not really what she was looking for, and she realized she may have to modify her research if she wanted to figure out the rune-imprint of the Bi-frost.

Magic. She needed to study Aesir magic.

This section she found a bit easier than Astronomy and snagged a random book from the shelf, flipping through the pages and repeating the process several times. Hermione then discovered the Aesir treated magic and science the same because they didn't know the difference. Or didn't acknowledge it, that is. A cellphone to them was the same as brewing a mystical potion: magic.

One and the same, indeed.

Hermione gathered what she assessed by picture alone. All the books and tomes and manuscripts she flipped through were in unknown languages.

Nearing the point of frustration, she closed the latest book in her hands and said, "If you won't leave me the bloody hell alone, the least you could do is make yourself useful."

"I'd rather stand here and bask in your fruitless attempt in deciphering a language your mind couldn't even hope to learn."

She whipped around and hurled the book at him and swore when it went right through him. His projection dissolved into a shimmer of gold, and he reappeared behind her, putting himself between her and the bookshelf. Rolling her eyes, she slowly turned to face him and said, "You are a child. I'm not surprised at all Odin didn't pick you for king."

His smile slid from his face. "And you think Thor a better candidate? He nearly restarted a war because—"

"Neither of you are worthy of a throne or a realm. Both of you are incredibly vain, selfish, arrogant, and _desperate_ to get what you want. If Jane wasn't so madly in love with Thor, I'd talk her out of marrying him. She can do better. _Much_ better."

For a man who had spent a great deal of his life hating and insulting and attempting to off his brother, Loki clearly disliked others doing the same. He backed her against the opposite shelf and breathed hotly on her face.

"Jane is the one undeserving of a god's attention. The pathetic mortal."

"This pathetic, undeserving mortal is also receiving a god's attention. Not in the same form, but does that matter? You're sullying your _demi_ god self. Find a cleaner hobby. I might be contagious."

"You…" He chuckled, the sound harsh and jagged, "must be a delightful lay for your husband to keep you. I can imagine what invectives you toss at him. The words barbaric and abusive come to mind. How is it he hasn't cut out that tongue yet? Mmm. Is that delightful, too, when you are preoccupied performing what women were meant for? Kneeling for their men?"

White, hot anger boiled inside of her, but Hermione managed to paint on a toothy, suggestive smile and lean closer to Loki. "Yes," she whispered through hooded eyes and nibbling on her bottom lip. "I'm delightful, Prince Loki. A shame you have to suffer the not-so-delightful effects of my presence or my tongue."

She became rigid when he stepped closer, and his lips ghosted over the bridge of her nose and hovered over her lips. "Do I?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, the back of her body digging into the levels of the bookshelf. At the last second, she turned he head, her lashes fluttering shut when he kissed her cheek. Her breath hitched when his thumb skimmed her lips. "I'm taken, and I don't like you."

"What if I were to say I wished to snatch you up for myself because I've grown accustomed to the not-so-delightful effects of your presence or you tongue."

"I'd remind you we met two hours ago."

"You want me, Hermione. I know you do. You don't care about what I've said or done—"

Her eyes flew open and she glared at him. "I do care, _Loki_. You _are_ a monster. What you did to my—"

"Not enough. The fact we met two hours ago, doesn't matter. Nor does it matter how unsavory our introductions were. Your marriage is the one thing standing between you and what you want. Is that enough? From the way you allowed me to put my hands all over you in the time we've know each other, I'm thinking _not_."

"They haven't been _all_ over me," she argued, "and you weren't touching me _that_ way."

His forehead rested against hers. "If I attempt to kiss you again, are you going to let me?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" he asked, his breath warm on her lips.

"Yes."

"Because you're a good woman."

"Yes."

"A good wife."

"Yes."

"A good liar."

Hermione nodded violently, her focus settled on the naked skin between the lapels of his frock, his collar bone smooth and pale.

"And you told me you prefer dealing with truths."

He kissed her.

She let him.

For a very long time.

The fireworks exploding behind her eyelids. The aggressive batch of Cornish pixies in her stomach. The stampede in her chest. The wild, warm river rushing choppily in her veins. Addicting sensations, they were, and near-forgotten. She hadn't desired nor felt wholly desired in years. A part of her knew she needed to push him off her, but the rest of her yearned to be treated like a woman and a partner again.

God, who was she kidding? She yearned for intimacy.

She clung to him, her fingers raking through his hair, across the slopes of his shoulders, and shoulder blades as he coaxed her lips wider apart to explore her mouth. One of his hands crept up the side of her neck, over her hair, and to her comb. He plucked it from its do and ran the disassembled tresses through his fingers, twisting them around his digits and using them as leverage to force her head to the side where he could feast on the exposed expanse of her neck.

"Your scent. The magic. You're intoxicating," he grumbled, nipping at her skin.

How could he talk? She could barely even think.

The skirt of her dress began to rise from the bunching of the material at her hips. "Accompany me to my chambers," he said.

"Hermione!" sang Jane, probably from the main level of the library. "You left koufeta on my pillow, didn't you?!"

Hermione shoved at Loki's chest right when he leapt away from her. Her chest heaved from fright and lust, and she covered her face, her cheeks warm against sweaty palms. Shit, what had she done?

"I…" She swallowed and wrapped up her locks in a twist, bending down to fetch her discarded comb from the floor. "No, Loki."

Bracing himself against the shelf, he said, "Tonight."

"No."

"Hermione?" Jane called again.

"I'm here!" she replied. "I'll be down in just a bit."

"Tomorrow night," Loki offered, extending his arm out to her.

Hermione ignored the gesture, stalking towards him and standing on her tiptoes to kiss him, his face cupped in her hands. She pulled away before things could get heated again to say, "Persuade me."

Slipping out of his arms, she ran out of the stacks and joined her cousin on the main floor, hoping Jane didn't notice her sporting a new sin.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** : *Sigh* So here we are back in Jotunheim!

 **To forewarn you** , there will eventually be a long, juicy chapter dedicated to the epic Romione fallout of this story, and it will not have Loki.*Cowers and sinks into fetal position as rotten tomatoes come flying* Furthermore, because it will be a chapter taking place (and starting in 2009-thus, pre-Thor), there will be no Thor characters at all. Although, there may be a brief mention of Jane and or Avenger characters and such. I think my readers need to know _everything_ that led up to Ron's distrust of Hermione, and all the inquiries regarding Draco Malfoy (Everything was the bastard's fault, after all). It will also face-plant into the woes of Hermione's fertility issues. It will be an important chapter, in my opinion.

Enjoy Chapter 5 and let me know your thoughts. :) Even if it's just to point out errors. There may be a few, and I apologize.

* * *

At the base of the slope of the valley, Hermione stood for a moment, taking in the scene from a closer angle. Giants littered the grounds, both outside and inside of the temple. Even though she was invisible to them, magic-ancient and strong to the touch-heavily coated the air. It wished to repel her, but it failed to communicate properly with her own power.

Hermione understood the giants had set up wards against the Aesir.

Good. She could get by more or less undetected.

Jotunheim's magic pricked at her disillusionment charms, searching for a chink. It was like a violent vibration raking across her nerves. She cast another charm on herself, and it lessened the sensation marginally, so she channeled that discomfort into her wand and let that fuel her next spell.

The spell she chose was one she, admittedly, never performed.

And with good reason.

It better not fail her.

Years ago when she'd been given Bellatrix Lestrange's wand as a replacement, it defied her for a better part of a year. It missed its original owner. Hermione taking the wand as her own was like adopting a young child who still remembered its mother. The wand had not wanted to yield for the sake of light magic, for it only knew dark. Conditioning it had proved a challenge for Hermione, but she accomplished her goal to a great extent. The walnut, dragon-heartstring resisted in giving up its sass.

Bringing the tip of her wand to her lips, Hermione whispered, "Do as I say and no more."

Setting her sight on a spot on the slope across the valley, Hermione wielded the spell easily—her wand doing so as if sighing in relief— the vibrant yellow-reddish color not going unnoticed by the frost giants. Those pacing stopped and stared at the warm hues which were unlike anything their realm could ever naturally produce and followed the light where it landed on the inclined bit of earth. Fire erupted from the spot and spread several feet in all directions, lapping at the starved ground like it was parched grass. The vast flames soon took shape, thick limbs forming and a triangular head. Spike-like embers solidified and tangible, leathery wings expanded from the middle of the fiery mass.

The dragon roared and set its depthless sight on those populating the valley. It reared back on its hind legs, spreading its wings further as if to take flight, snarling, before heading towards the giants and the temple.

The giants scattered, some fleeing in her direction while others stood, stunned and slack jawed. The distraction allowed Hermione to sprint into the temple without a hitch. Two guards were left to protect a cavern in the stone flooring. Two Stunning Spells, and they were flat on her their backs. Swishing her wand, she scooted them out of the building, tripping four other giants in the process who were yelling and pointing at the dragon as well as the sky.

The cavern was a large, deep hole in the flooring with a spiral, stone staircase carved out of the sides. Because of the dimness, Hermione could not see the bottom, so she lit her wand and climbed down the steps. When she was more than head deep into the pit, she cast a robust repellent charm that should push away both the giants and her Fiendfyre. She knew when she cast that spell, she would not be exiting the valley the same way she entered. Even when her dragon killed all in sight, it would melt into a lake of flames and consume the entire stretch of land.

A hundred feet, perhaps more, into the depths of Jotunheim, Hermione finally took the last step onto a flat surface. The staircase brought her to an underground chamber of sorts. A tunnel, actually. Hesitantly and with her ignited wand out in front of her, she walked closer to the shrieks ripping from Loki's throat. She imagined the sound haunting her days and nights for years to come. The way it echoed off the rocky walls set her teeth on edge and made her feel no remorse to those who would die from her Fiendfyre.

Travelling through the tunnel, Hermione passed several barred cells, many of them occupied by both large and normal sized skeletons. Her boots crushed the fingers of one that had its arm stretched through the metal bars. She frowned at the remains but continued to walk. There wasn't time to investigate or ponder the horrors of imprisonment.

The tunnel curved to the left, and Hermione turned the corner, her steps slowing when seeing an illuminated cell up ahead as well as a two giants standing guard on each side of the barred gate. Despite her invisibility, Hermione let herself be heard and called out, "Excuse me, you have something of mine."

The two guards jerked their heads at her voice, and she ripped their brutish weapons out of their grasps, knocking them out with each other's spiked clubs. Spelling them far away from the gate, she bound them to the floor and broke the bars of the cell with a resolute _Bombarda Maxima_.

Stomping over the debris and lifting the cloaking spells from her person, she entered what appeared to be a torture chamber rather than a cell. Torches of fire resting on holders gave light to the startling sight before her. Hermione knew her Norse mythology very well. Even before discovering the truth of Yggdrasil, her _Prose_ and _Post Edda_ were weary from use. She should've expected the scene before her. After all, it had been _arguably_ prophesied.

Arguably. There were differences, and Hermione hadn't the care to take careful notes of them.

Rancid, indescribable smells assaulted her nose. Her eyes fell on Sleipnir who lay on his side, emaciated and dead, his stomach obscenely split open and three of his legs broken while two others were missing. Bile splashed at the back of her throat as she recalled how soft his fur and hair had been when she brushed his mane and body in the palace stables months prior.

Tearing her eyes away from the mare, she stumbled to Loki who was bound and naked to a slab of rock, his wrists encased by the entrails of Sleipnir. The tissue held strong as the man thrashed, choked, and howled from pain. Venom languidly dripped from a massive three-headed, albino python that seemed to grow out of the ceiling. Glistening droplets fell from three sets of sharp teeth and landed on Loki's mutilated sternum. Hermione saw bone beneath scalded, strings of flesh. The venom slid down his abused torso, passed his pelvic bone, and streamed down the inside of his thigh. Loki's strained movement was from, not only pain, but preservation.

Kicking stones and debris from her pathway, she marched the rest of the way to Loki and scowled down at his screaming face.

"You idiot! You told me you would be all right!" she hissed, yet the hand caressing his face was gentle, and her fury grew when he appeared to not even register her presence. How long had been down there? From the looks of his retched wounds, a fair amount of time, but he was a demigod. His healing rate was beyond anything she could imagine. It was the reason he was alive. Wounds such as his would've killed a human being.

Glaring up at the python, she turned a curse upon them and watched each triangular head turn on one other, their fangs tearing at each other's throats, eyes, and neck.

With the venom no longer falling, Loki's screams quieted some and became raspy. His eyes were still closed, and his chest stuttered.

Sliding her wand up her sleeve, Hermione grabbed a bottle of dittany from the beaded bag looped over her shoulder and squirted a bit onto his sternum, torso, and thigh. Soon his breathing calmed, and his brow started to relax, and she studied the entrails keeping him on the slab of rock. A simple slicing spell refused to cut through the tissue. A determined _Sectumsempra_ did work, though.

His hands free, Hermione cupped Loki's face, her thumbs skimming over his cheeks and lips. "I hate you," she whispered, leaning downing and kissing his forehead and repeating the lie into his chilled skin. "I hate you so much. More than anything or anyone." Her lips travelled down the bridge of his nose and rested on his unresponsive mouth, coaxing him into a conscious state. When he remained slack beneath her, she huffed and pulled away. "Wake up, you stupid arse."

She pulled her spare set of clothes out of her bag and transfigured them into a soft-material frock and trousers and magicked them onto his naked form. She then ran a hand through his hair, contemplating how badly he needed to bathe. He groaned and leaned away from her touch, his eyeballs moving rapidly behind his lids. She patted his cheek a bit roughly and said, "Get up. We're leaving. _Now_."

Finally, his lashes parted and his unfocused gaze darted about the chamber, ultimately settling on her. He looked at her for quite some time before blinking. It was then he actually _saw_ her.

"Hermione," he said, his brow wrinkling. "You can't be here." He shook his head and sat up, hissing in pain as his frock rubbed against his healing wounds. "You need to leave."

"Are you well enough to magic us elsewhere?"

Loki's eyes shut and opened, and he looked down at his freed wrists and then up at the shredded python. His hand rubbed at his frock, his face twisting in pain. His features betrayed his emotions.

"Loki?"

"No. I cannot." He sounded defeated and exhausted and famished and utterly unaware of reality. He knew she shouldn't be there. What he failed to notice was the change in his own exterior. Loki was ambivalent towards his transfigured frock and trousers but unaware of the blue, marked skin beneath it. Again, he peered at his wrists and hands, relieved they were free from the entrails of Sleipnir.

Showing him her palm, she said, "Take my hand."

He did as she said and then bristled, his red eyes widening at the contrast of their skin tones. Before he could steal back his hand, she gripped it and Disapparated, thinking of the location at the top of the valley. When they arrived, she steeled her stomach and steadied her legs to keep from falling over like Loki did. He sank to his knees and elbows while Hermione studied the mess she made. Heat from her Fiendfyre reached through her weather protectant charms and warmed her face. In the space of thirty minutes, the valley had transformed into a lake of fire.

Lifting her wand to dampen and ultimately eliminate the flames, she paused and changed her mind when hearing Loki stutter, "I-It's t-too warm. I c-can't…"

Instead, Hermione cast an Everlasting Curse, forcing the fire to never extinguish as well as to never leave the valley.

Bending down, she grabbed Loki's arm and Disapparated again, appearing alongside on the far outskirts of a village she passed the previous day. Loki attempted to steady himself but succumbed to his body's depleted state and sank to his knees, his arms wrapping around her waist for support and his face buried in her belly. She sheathed her wand in her sleeve and reached down to comb her fingers through his hair, gently picking at the knots and tangles.

"Do you find me hideous?" he asked..

"No." Her fingernails worked at a particularly nasty cluster of hair and envisioned giving him a trim right there and then. "Be that as it may, I'd rather not return you like this nor summon Heimdall. The Bi-frost leaves an imprint I can't remove if I'm back on Asgard. If the Jotuns trace your disappearance back to Asgard, there will be another war. You are capable of travelling between realms without detection. How long will it take you to recuperate?"

"I can't even stand," he mumbled into her stomach.

She tossed her beaded bag onto the ground and pointed her wand at it, fetching the tent and unravelling it was a swish and erecting it with a flick. Helping Loki to his feet, she let him lean on her for support and half-drug him into the flimsy-looking structure. When they got inside, he frowned at the enlarged surroundings and she unceremoniously plonked him down on the awaiting futon. She went back outside and set up wards and several repelling charms.

Inside the tent, Loki rolled onto his back while she wrenched open her bag to pull out her bottle of dittany. "You need more," she said.

"What is that?"

"A witch's best friend," she replied, twisting off the cap. "Show me your chest."

He didn't, so with an impatient wave of her wand, she stripped him of the frock. He scowled at her, and she gave him a nonplussed expression in return, splashing the potion on his injuries. His skin was still puckered and inflamed and bloody, fleshy threads over bones and organs.

"I told you I don't find you hideous," she said, capping the dittany and extracting a thermos from her bag. Twisting off the lid, she poured in a vial of potion and carefully shook the container. She arched a brow at him, a sad smirk on her lips. "Leave it to you to be more concerned about your looks, even on the brink of death. It's not like I spent two days on a foreign realm exposed to deadly elements such as giants and the atmosphere, only to turn right around because my vein lover is blue. Drink this."

Loki shot her a bemused expression and cautiously accepted the thermos. "Why are you here, Hermione?"

"Aside from the obvious," she started, frowning, and sighed. "Your brother couldn't come and get you. He initially hoped he could make an exchange with the queen, but he lost his bargaining chips. Asgard's not ready to enter another war with Jotunheim, and he knew this. So did most of the council. In private, I proposed to him a rescue mission."

"He sent you!"

"Don't spill that! And, no. I sent myself. He knows about me, by the way, which is one of the reasons he allowed me to come here. Another reason was because I'm not Aesir, and neither is my magic. It can't be traced back to Asgard _nor_ my realm since magic there is well-hidden. If they do attack Asgard, they'll be doing so without cause and giving Thor permission to lay waste to their entire realm."

"Like Jane, you are not terribly versed in politics. There are-"

"Shush. Drink, now."

His mouth curled in distaste at the thermos. "What is it?"

"Broth."

He sniffed it and looked at her dubiously. "There's something else in here."

"Poison. I intend to kill you."

"I thank you for your honesty," he muttered, sipping at the liquid and grimacing a little. She quickly took the thermos from him, and he fell back on the mattress, his breathing immediately becoming steady. She twisted the lid back on the container and shoved it into her bag before curling up on a separate futon. It took a while for her to fall asleep and when she did, her slumber was light and unrestful. She could have slurped at her spiked broth but thought better of it.

As she arose, Loki was awake but barely so. His red eyes were unfocused, and his body overly relaxed. His gaze flicked at her as she sat up, and he said listlessly, "I dislike poppy."

"I don't care." She fished out a pouch full of nuts and dried berries from her bag and tossed a handful into her mouth, downing them with her canteen of water. She then crawled over to him, offering him the canteen.

Loki moved like he weighed several more stones and lacked a skeleton. He struggled to sit up, so she helped him. His skin was colder than it had been, and it was almost like touching a parcel of freezer-burnt meat. Her fingers and palm smarted at the contact, and she could feel his chilliness through the sleeves of her jacket and sweater.

When he finished drinking, she put the canteen away and regretfully said, "I don't think I can touch you anymore."

"I was wondering when you'd finally admit your dislike of the new look."

"No. Your skin. It's hurting me."

A harsh, mirthless chuckle escaped his throat, and he faced away from her. His self-loathing gave her the chance to study her hand. She rubbed it on the front of her jacket to create some warmth.

"I think it means you're healing," she said, taking out her pair of gloves and donning them. "The potion I slipped you hasn't left your system. Go back to sleep."

He didn't respond which was fine. She dug her arm into her bag and pulled out a manuscript. The thin, yellowed parchment was delicately bound and displayed faded ancient Scandinavian runes. She had purchased this manuscript on a whim eleven years ago, relishing the idea of how perfect it would look on the shelf in her home office. Indeed, it had looked fetching but served no other purpose. In fact, she had completely forgotten about until she removed all of her belongings from her house this past summer during the divorce.

Hermione also grabbed a notebook she stole from Jane, tertiary level arithmancy textbook, and her single picture of the Bi-frost runes. Before she started making notes, she flipped through her cousin's scribbling which took Hermione close to an hour to understand the formula Jane was tweaking. Hermione wrote down the formula, purposefully leaving blanks where certain constants applied and then delved into the arithmancy book.

Two, maybe three hours later, Hermione set down her pen and stretched her arms up above her head, yawning. She tilted her head about, cracking her neck and then doing the same to her spine. She moved her notes off her lap and laid down on her futon, dozing off in a matter of minutes.

At the sound of scuffling and animalistic growling, Hermione sprung awake with her wand at the ready, pointing towards the sound. Loki sat up, as well, alert.

"Frost beast," he said. "We're being hunted, and it's caught our scents."

Digging into her bag, Hermione pulled out a small ampoule of black and dark grey powder, something she hadn't needed to use since her more colorful days as a Hit Witch. She got up and walked to the tent's entrance, and a naked Loki scrambled to her side, clutching at her sleeve which shredded like tissue paper upon contact. She cradled her bare arm close to her chest and stepped back. He hadn't touched her, yet her forearm burned. It felt like a thin razor made of the sturdiest ice had scraped layers of skin off her flesh. She peaked down at the dark purplish blister and the tiny droplets of blood bubbling out of her pores.

Staring up at Loki, she showed him the vial of powder and said, "This will make the frost beast lose his smell."

Loki didn't even look at her, too busy staring angrily at his traitorous hands.

"I'm fine," she clipped.

"You should leave me. I belong here."

She tilted her head to the side, eyebrows arched. "I'm sorry, Thor. I saved your brother, but then I left him in Jotunheim because he's a self-conscious drama queen."

"I hurt you."

"On accident. You tried to stop me in doing something you thought was stupid. You were going by instinct. It's fine. I'm fine. You're fine. You may even be healed enough to use your magic."

"I cannot travel between realms as of yet." He stared down at himself and closed his eyes, ashamed, like she may think less of him for being unable to do his usual tricks after the hell he suffered. Like she sometimes loved him just because he had magic.

The fool.

Suddenly, she missed the Loki she sent off to war very much. This blue, _blue_ alien was pathetic and not the man she hoped to see in the welcoming parade back in Asgard. That Loki would've tossed her a dismissive apology for incidentally harming her and wouldn't come off so pitiful being without magic. His tongue would've still been sharp, and he wouldn't be so broody like an angst-ridden love interest in an adolescent novel.

Hermione knew she shouldn't think so little of him at this point. He was displaying his vulnerability, and she should appreciate it.

But she didn't.

"Get dressed. I'm going to throw this," she held up the powder, "in the frost beast's face and then we are going to set up camp somewhere else."

"I can no longer wear the clothes you gave me."

"Are you powerful enough to take your Aesir form?" She contemplated a series of resistant spells on clothing that could help him in this situation. It was impractical for Loki to be unclothed.

Loki never got a chance to answer, for her protective wards blew apart as if a solid mass knocked a hole into it. Instinctively, she cast another protective ward that would be strong enough to spare them for a minute.

"Shit." She jerked her wand at her books and notes, forcing the mess into her bag and summoning it to her. Everything else would have to stay.

She grabbed Loki's hand and Disapparated as fast as she could, biting through the pain. The moment her boots connected to the earth, she let go and shoved half her arm up passed the hem of her shirt onto the warm skin of her belly like it could undo the damage. Her eyes landed on the ten or so giants and the frost beast a quarter of a mile away. They surrounded her tent. One of them stepped forward and ripped into the canvas effortlessly.

"The queen is amongst them," Loki said.

"Shh." She spelled a _Bombarda Maxima_ at the tent, the blast knocking back the giants and the beast.

Hermione dropped the vial of black powder onto the ground and crushed the glass with her boot, spreading around the specks. "The beast will catch our scent over here and sniff this. The giants won't be able to use it for a hunting vise after that."

"Hermione," he said, and she stared him, exhaling softly when seeing him in his Aesir form. With his skin being so pale, the puckered gashes stood out more prominently, showing how deeply injured he truly was.

Summoning the bottle of dittany out of her bag, she offered it to Loki who took it. She gingerly extracted her arm and showed herself and him her ghastly looking hand. Her blackened fingers were slightly curled, and she could not straighten them nor move them at all.

Removing the cap, he firmly held her wrist and dumped the entire bottle onto her hand. She wanted to tell him not to do that, but her mouth froze in a silent scream, the pain worsening before subsiding into a dull throb. The dark, burnt color lightened into crimson and then a dark pink. Her palm and the underside of her fingers possessed raw patches of new itchy skin, and she could sort of wiggle them now. Bloody hell, if she hadn't the essence of dittany, she would've lost the function of her hand entirely.

Carefully, Loki skimmed his fingers along her own. "I may be able to further the healing process."

She shook her head. "Don't. Save it for yourself. This." She stiffly wiggled her digits. "This will heal. I have other ointments and such in my bag. The dittany you doused all over me was supposed to be for you in increments. Whether you put a lot or a little gives the same results."

He let go of her wrist, glaring. "Forgive me. My thoughts were on saving your hand. If I knew you were going to be so ungrateful—"

She quieted him by raising on her tiptoes and kissing him, her arm wrapping around the back of his neck. Hermione was careful as to not brush up against him in fear of irritating his wounds further. Breaking the kiss, she pulled out her third set of clothes and transfigured them into another pair of trousers and a tunic like shirt.

"That bag." Loki shook his head and stepping into the trousers.

"It's got me through some rough times, I tell you," she replied, smiling.

Once he was dressed, she linked her arm through his and Disapparated, coming to the outside of a cave she passed at least a day before on the way to finding him. Loki stuck up his nose and begrudgingly entered it. Quickly, she set up her wards and then bent down, experimentally carving a series of sigils into the dirt with her finger.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm wondering if runes will work stronger." She wiped her finger on her pants and slipping off her bag, taking in the interior of the cave. It _was_ rather dreary and unimpressive and in serious need of light. Summoning ten or so stones, she formed a circle and conjured a flame bright enough to light up the enclosed space.

From her bag, Hermione pulled out a ceramic basin and set it on the floor. Waving her arm, she enlarged the bowl into a tub big enough to fit a person. She ignored Loki's perturbed stare and filled the enlarged basin with lukewarm water. As it filled, she tossed him a look and said, "You need a bath. You're filthy and some clean water will probably help your wounds heal faster."

"So eager to get me out of my clothes again." He chuckled, attempting a lewd smirk. He was still so uncomfortable with his injuries and most likely still tired, his playfulness came across weak.

"Here," she said, pocketing her wand and walking up to him to tug on the hem of his shirt. She lifted it, and he bent over and backed away to strip the garment from him. She then untied the lacings of his trousers and tugged them from his hips, her eyes never leaving his as they dropped to the ground. She took his hand and pulled, encouraging him to the tub. She helped him in, though, she suspected he needn't her assistance in swinging his leg over the edge and settling inside of it.

With a sigh, he made himself as relaxed as possible, although his mouth twisted into an unpleasant grimace as the water lapped at his torso. "Your Midgardian magic is befuddling. At times, it's a little less than parlor tricks and other times, it's well beyond what it should be."

Grabbing another bowl from her bag, she dipped it into the bathwater and poured it over Loki's head. His hair drooped over his face, and wiped the drenched locks and the water. She set the bowl down and fetched a cloth and a bar of medicated soap (St. Mungo's top choice) from her bag. She handed both to Loki who smacked her with a faux, dejected gaze.

"No, Loki," she said, shaking her head.

"You must need a bath, as well."

She paused, having thought he wanted to her wash him, not join him.

"You know you want to," he said, grinning lazily.

If they were back on Asgard, yes, in the comfort of a gigantic bubbly brew of soaps and oils. After thoroughly cleaning one another and other activities, they could retire on a comfy, plush bed and rest.

Or talk.

They needed to talk about so many things

Damp fingers wrapped around her own (the hurt ones) and then skimmed a wet digit over her wrist and forearm. He brought her healing knuckles to his lips and brushed careful kisses over them.

"Please," he said, looking up at her.

"I hate you."

He thumbed the back of her palm. "I know."

She stole back her hand and unzipped her jacket and unlaced her boots. Naked, she climbed into the tub facing Loki and did as he wanted, gently massaged the soap over his neck. She sat strategically on his knees, safe away from his healing places as well as other parts of him. Their position was intimate, but she was nowhere in the mood for lovemaking.

"You owe me a million favors. You know that, right?" she said, soapy fingers kneading his shoulders.

"Mmm. And what is the first favor my witch desires of me?" He caressed the dips of her waist beneath the water, and then one of his hands moved to her lower stomach, cupping, his thumb circling her belly button.

"I want you to teach me Aesir."

His eyes narrowed. "Mmhm."

"And I'd like to see Vanaheim."

"Why?"

"Niffleheim, too."

"It's as cold there as it is here. I imagine it is far less torturous on the eyes..." He leaned his head back, his eyes drifting close. "Anything else? Something more feasible, I hope. I'd like to remind you how I'll be back on my _leash_ when we return to Asgard. Prisoner of war or not, my brother will find it prudent I carry out my sentence."

"You came to Earth to see me."

He cracked an eyelid. "Are you suggesting we sneak about Yggdrasil, Hermione?"

"I also…This is stupid. I don't need permission. I _do_ want a baby, and I ask that you not be bothered when I get one."

"Not be bothered," he repeated, his head lifting.

"Don't take this the wrong way…or do. I don't know. You're not exactly _impregnating material_." Damn, those weren't the best choice of words.

"Impregnating material," he said slowly, frowning. "Are you implying I lack the necessities in reproduction?"

"No. I'm aware you have…what you have. I'm saying that you are not the best candidate for me, and it's not because…"

"Because I'm actually a Jotun. You fear the offspring would be an abomination in all ways."

"No," she said through clenched teeth. "It's about something else entirely, and it's too long to explain. So…I'll just remind you how you don't like children, and I doubt you'd even like your own. The last thing I want is to have your child and for you to hate it. I'd rather have someone else's and for you to be ambivalent."

After her 'favor' tumbled out of her mouth, she realized their current situation had not been the best time for such an important conversation. She cocked her head, a rueful smile on her lips as he stared at her blankly. He was hurt. His stoic, unreadable features hinted at it, but his silence confirmed it. He couldn't even manage a wry, snarky quip.

"Loki," she said, palming the side of his face. "I'm sorry. But you have to see this from my perspective. You don't _really_ want to be a father. At most, your biological instinct wishes to leave a legacy, and I seem like a viable candidate. It would be very hard for me to have a baby with you, only for you dislike him or her because of how insignificant they seem and how needy and annoying they are. Having one with someone else, I wouldn't take your behavior so personal. It would be just my child and mine alone, and I wouldn't have to explain to him or her why their father loathes—"

"You've made your point." Fingers twisted and tightened at the hairs on the base of her neck, and he yanked backwards. It almost smarted. His mouth nipped at her jawline and steadied by her earlobe. Hermione's torso brushed against his, and a pained hissed escaped his mouth from the contact.

Pushing at his shoulders, she kept their distance as to not cause him further discomfort. "Careful, now," she chided.

"If you think I'll stand by idly and allow another man to touch you, you are not as intelligent as I thought. Have I been deceived? Did I waste that apple on an empty-headed cad? You're _mine._ A consort to an Asgardian prince which means you belong to me. You have been claimed, and if another man were to come along and challenge me, I'd be in the right to kill him. Is that what you want?"

"Are you going to urinate on me?"

"Pardon?"

"It's not official until you do."

"I don't know what kind of revolting, Midgardian rituals take place between mates, but I assure you, there will be none of _that_."

She laughed and kissed his cheek, right above his jaw. She put her fingers over his and coerced him to let go of her hair. Pecking him on the mouth and brushing their noses together, she smiled and confessed in the softest whisper, "I love you...when you're not being a total imbecile. No one else is going to touch me, all right? I'm going to keep my word to Jane and stay in Asgard for a year, but I will go back to Earth. When I'm home, I'm going to have a procedure done. It's medical, practically. A doctor is going to take a bit of me and bit of a man and place the…concoction inside." She tapped on her stomach. "It's costly, but it's no fuss and no muss and a near guarantee pregnancy."

"I hadn't realized," he started, "Midgardian fertility science had advanced so far. Will you know this man?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not personally, no. I'll study profiles. I'll only know them by a number, picture, and background."

Loki exhaled, his scowl disapproving. "I don't like this either."

"Would you like it to be someone _you_ know? I suppose I can ask Fandral. I don't mean to judge, but he seems to have no qualms on spreading his seed about."

Scraping a palm down his face, Loki groaned. "Can't you wait a century or two? You have the time. Perhaps I'll soften up to the idea of fathering a child by then."

"I'm going to drown you. Hold still."

Easily, he plucked her hands from his neck and forced her close to him to feast on her neck. She hummed in appreciation and said, "I'm going to do what I want, you know. And there is no way I'm going to wait two hundred years for your selfish arse to grow up. If you really want me by your side for eternity, Loki, you're going to have to compromise." She pushed herself out of his embrace to look at him evenly, "Persuade me you're worth the trouble of keeping for that long. Persuade me you're a man and not a child, or I'll be your consort until _I_ tire of you. And I will. I promise you."

He considered her for a moment, his eyes slit. Eventually, he proposed, "Ten years."

"No. It's now or never. If never, then I'll leave after my year is up and do as I please however I see fit. You won't be a part of it. _Any_ of it. Those are my terms. Understood?"

He looked away from her, worrying his lips with his fingers while his elbow perched on the rim of the tub. She knew what she proposed was something that needed to be rehashed and mulled over, but it still stung he had to take his bloody time.

A minute passed, and she grabbed the side of the tub, moving to get out.

"Wait," he said, exhaling. "As you said, I owe you a multiple favors. Giving you this should clear my debt."

"I demand the other things, as well."

"Don't be greedy—"

"Loki, you are _not_ an easy person to love. Be grateful I put up with you, okay? Be grateful I cared enough to come here and save you."

"You want me to show my gratitude by spoiling you." Tossing an exasperated glare at her, he said, "The water is cooling. You should dress before you catch a chill."

"Well, that has come and gone in more ways than one," she said dryly, climbing out of the tub. Pulling a towel from her bag, she dried off and told Loki to finish washing himself. She dressed in her thick, warm leggings and a chunky sweater and set up her two spare futons close to the fire. Plopping down on one, she brushed and braided her hair, almost regretting to have forgone washing it, so she and Loki could have an honest, adult conversation.

Laying down on the futon and wrapping herself in spare blankets, she closed her eyes and thought of the future. There was still so much to talk about with Loki, and she fully expected him to try and convince her again to wait on having a baby. He'd use the argument that the time wasn't right, and she pictured herself almost caving.

Indeed, there was never a perfect time to have children. There would always be a flaw big enough to stir doubt in both women and men when it came to parenting. Hermione's was that she desired a prominent, male figure in her baby's life, preferably the father. Loki was not father material, so he was going to have to learn like he learned how to properly court and appease her. And, undoubtedly, he was going to need to start from scratch.

Opening her eyes when hearing Loki get out of the tub, she sat up and took a pouch of dried berries and nuts and a tiny, round container of salve out of her bag and set on her neighboring futon.

"Put this on, and a little goes a long way," she said, snuggling back underneath her covers and soon drifting off to sleep.

She couldn't have slept long, for when she woke, Loki was calling her name as he laid down his futon, dressed and apparently ready to have another conversation. She glared at him. They both needed rest and any further discussion had to wait for a more appropriate place and time.

"What?" she snapped.

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Hm?"

"This." He gestured to the cave walls. "Hiding, rescuing. All of it. Thor told me you were an authoress, but I'm beginning to think otherwise. Did you learn what you learned because of your war or because of something else?"

"Go to sleep."

"You know of my past. I wish to be more familiar with yours. We are bound for eternity, after all."

"We are not bound, and I don't know everything about you. Nor do I feel it necessary I should. We're not at a good place despite how much we want each other. We're not ready to know more, Loki."

"Will you tell me someday? You should. We _might_ have a child soon."

Shifting to face the opposite direction, she sighed. "I don't know. Maybe."

Loki said her name again, irritated, but she ignored him, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

To be Continued...


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** **After a horrible a month, I present...Chapter 6. So sorry for any errors. Please R &R. Thanks!**

 ***I tampered a bit with the timeline. I originally had Hermione first arriving in Asgard in the first of March. I changed it towards the end of February. Her stay there will go into March. (I know this seems stupid, but I felt like Jane needed to get married on a Friday as per Viking tradition as well as in honor of her late mother-in-law Frigga.)**

* * *

 **February 2014**

A celebratory feast took place at dusk, and similar to breakfast, Hermione found herself sitting at the dining table once more. Again, Loki sat across from her and Jane beside her. Patrons were also seated at the table, filling each seat. Trays and trays of succulent dishes were laid before them, servers bustling in and out of the kitchens to refill emptying trays and goblets. Hermione sampled of the salmon, roasted vegetables, and flaky and buttery breads.

Though she enjoyed the food, the walls of the entire palace were weakening from the tipsy mirth and celebratory moods of the people. A headache from the noise started to prick between Hermione's brows, her pleasant smile turning into a grimace. She tried not to flinch at the repetitive sounds of dishes colliding with the stone floor, reminding her she was out of her element.

Sparing a glance at Jane, she seemed to emulate excitement, irritation, and anxiety. Maybe even doubt. The way her cousin's eyes swept over the people; her cheeks turned ashen. Hermione watched Jane lower her gaze onto her half-eaten plate, her cousin nibbling her bottom lip.

Thor was clearly not out of sorts like his fiancé. Despite not participating in raucous laughter or even breaking dishes, his mood was eager. He kept taking breaks from his meals or his attempts at making conversation with his father and Loki to take ahold of Jane's hand and kiss it. The affectionate gesture would melt all worries away from Jane's face for thirty or so seconds before the wrinkle on her brow would return.

Hermione still smiled at Thor's naked love for Jane. He wasn't perfect by any means. Regardless, he fancied her cousin, and Hermione hoped both of their love (as stupid and reckless as it was) would last. If Hermione were to guess, she'd assume they didn't really know very much about each other, except surface details, which wouldn't bode well for their future.

Finishing her meal, Hermione started in on the dessert, taking two small pastries and a dish of what looked like pudding. The pastries were still hot, so she allowed them to cool on her plate while she dipped her spoon into the creamy, gelatinous substance.

For the umpteenth time that night, Hermione met Loki's gaze across the table. His expression was blank like the times before, so she arched a brow and took a bite of brandied fig pudding, garnished in a smoked vanilla cream. His blue-green eyes narrowed, and she went back to ignoring him for the next several minutes. He had spent the better part of the afternoon cornering her in every possible crevice of the palace, whispering spicy-honeyed words into her ear, asking her to join him in his chambers the following evening.

He had no qualms about pulling her away from the guards who escorted her everywhere. When she voiced her concern about prying eyes, he assured her it was not their place to speak of the affairs of royals, and he could have her right there, and they would not say a word to anyone.

Yes, he spent most of the day trying to get a yes out of her. At first, she wasn't persuaded at all, and a part of her was thankful for that. She needn't be thinking of having a fling because if she were to go down this road—never mind the dead end—then it would be anything but harmless. One does not simply enter a secretive, sleazy affair with the God of Mischief and expect to come out unscathed. He oozed danger and trouble and ruin from every pore.

Unfortunately, Loki was clever as he was observant. Trial and error, and he had scratched at her weakness. He learned that roughly slamming her into a wall and snogging her senseless failed to earn him a night with her. So…an hour before dinner, when she found herself invited by Thor and Jane to explore the late queen's private study, Loki appeared in the nook she had been ruminating in. He offered his hand instead of grabbing her. She accepted the gesture and showed him a bit of her cards, innocently lining their fingers against each other. He called her small and fragile, stroking each digit with his thumb and forefinger. She hadn't respond but wiped that stupid grin off his face by bringing the tips of his fingers to her mouth and marking each pad with delicate, lingering kisses. When she had reached his thumb, she added a light nibble and then sprinted out study.

Halfway through the pudding, Hermione's neighbor tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She looked at Fandral disapprovingly but given his handsome, yet bothersome smug smirk, he either didn't care or didn't realize his faux pas.

"I dare say, you are as lovely as your dear cousin, Lady Hermione." He took a drink from his goblet and set it down, positioning himself in his seat, so he faced her directly. "Are you enjoying your stay on Asgard?"

She nodded, sipping at her strongly brewed mead. The brandy from the pudding and her beverage helped dull her headache, but she couldn't say she was up for a one-sided flirt session with one of Thor's most trusted.

"I must ask," he leaned closer, resting his elbow on the table, "are all Midgardian women as beautiful as you and Lady Jane?"

"Um…" Hermione caught Lady Sif's glower who sat on the opposite side of the table, diagonal from her. "Truthfully, I feel inadequate."

"This great realm is not lacking in beauty, indeed. Yet, I often find very little in diversity."

"Diversity," Hermione repeated, frowning.

"Asgard does not play host to many who share your stature and coloring. I tire of sun-kissed tendrils and blue eyes." He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing underneath her right eyelash. "It's refreshing to see someone…fresh. Has anyone ever told you that your eyes are like—"

Slowly and precisely, she removed his hand, saying, "I'm married."

"And my wife is not without my affection, I assure you. She and I…we have an understanding."

Hermione blinked. "My husband and I don't," she clipped, drinking from her goblet. Small sips. The mead was poisonous. The lights of the chandeliers were starting to form thick halos and she was torn by wanting a nap or to go recklessly explore the palace grounds.

"He is not here," Fandral said, jovial, his hand resting on her knee. "He is in another realm entirely. None the wiser of the dashing man incredibly taken with his pretty, _pretty_ wife. Why not after we both finish our desserts, we take a stroll through the palace gardens and then retire to your chambers, hm?"

She forced his hand off her, but held it tightly for several moments before letting go. In those several moments, she stared deeply into his eyes, her fingernails digging into his palm. She then let go, and he his eyes closed and then opened slowly. He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time and then smiled sheepishly.

"You know…I recall I have other matters to take care of following dessert. So sorry."

"Apology accepted." She watched him turn in his seat and grab his fork, shoveling the remnants of his meal into his mouth.

Finishing her pudding without further interruption, she started nibbling at her pastries and did not feel at guilty all for what she just did to Fandral. As the flaky, sweet and spicy apple confection melted in her mouth, she wondered how Fandral's wife would take it that he no longer felt it prudent to sleep with other women.

There was moderate mingling amongst the people following dessert, yet Jane chose to retire for bed, and Hermione joined her. When they got to her chambers, Jane climbed up on the bed, full and sleepy and mumbling nonsensical things to herself. Hermione caught "I'm getting married" several times.

Sneakily, Hermione pulled something out of her overnight bag and tiptoed over to Jane, laying the present for her cousin on her head. Jane's eyelids opened and poked at the pure golden-leafed crown on her head, the corners of her lips twitching. She lifted it off her hair and examined it through a sleep-deprived gaze. Her almost-smile turned into a troubled frown.

"This was yours."

"I wish I could've gotten your mum's."

She shook her head and sat up. "It's not that. It's…a whole bunch of things. You and Ron are in such a bad place, you're handing over your stefana like it's no big deal, and…I need my mom. I really, _really_ need her right now, but at the same time, I'm glad she's not here because she would never," Jane stuck her finger up in the air and whirled around, "be okay with this.

"You know, I had a wedding plan. Like...years ago. I wanted a traditional Greek ceremony like yours and our moms', even though I haven't been to church since your wedding. And I know I can't have that _here_. I'm all right with it for the most part. Still…I had to fight Odin on having a table at the altar, not _Thor_. Thor didn't care. He thought it was cute. It's where I went this morning after I ditched you in the library. To speak with Thor about it. _A table._ I knew something was bothering him, and it was his dad. Trying again to take this one piece of _my_ ancestors from _my_ wedding. I don't even know if it's going to be there tomorrow, honestly. I'll have this, though." She wiggled the stefana pointedly, smug.

"You'll have to take it off when you receive your crown."

"Right." She thinned her lips and then said, "Maybe I'll have a goldsmith make an exact replica of this. This is what? Just gold-plated platinum, right?"

"It's an alloy and was expensive as hell," informed Hermione testily. More softly, she added, "It's Grandma's design."

Jane looked away, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip. "Maybe I won't have one made. This'll be my crown, and I'm going to wear it all the time. No one can stop me, I'm going to be queen. And seriously? How come Odin still has pull over what happens with certain things? He's not king anymore. He and everyone in Asgard need to realize he's an old fart _and_ retired. Why can't he be like all retirees and go find a hobby? Like Bingo and playing chess at a park and discovering the novelty of ordering crap out of _Harriet Carter_."

Hermione chuckled, not calling her out any of it. Jane clearly had been holding this in for quite a long time. "Tell him about the luxuries Florida has to offer."

Jane laughed, falling back on the mattress. She wiggled her feet playfully, reminding Hermione of something else she wanted to give Jane.

Well, not _give_.

Lend.

Going to her bag, she pulled out her new blue Elsa flats and slipped them on Jane's feet. Her cousin stared down at them lustfully.

"A trio in one. They're borrowed, new, and blue."

"Borrowed?"

"You have to give them back. They may not be Choos or Blahniks, but I'd be a little peeved if they suffer the same fate as your belated Uggs."

Wiggling her feet again, Jane replied, "But they're so pretty. I could give back the stefana."

" _Jane_."

"Fiiiine. I'll stop being a brat." She rolled onto her stomach, face half-buried in her pillow.

"Go to sleep, all right? We have to wake up very early."

Jane nodded and climbed off the bed, shirking her dress and the shoes to don a nightgown. She plucked the pins from her hair and wiped off her makeup, and then finally retired to bed, dozing off within minutes. Dimming the lanterns and placing a sleep-deepening spell as well as a muscle relaxing spell on Jane, Hermione went into the lavatory and saw both a shower and a grand tub built into tiled flooring. As tempting as the latter looked, she stripped off her dress and took out her hair-comb and figured out the shower. It was a tall, marble structure sprouting from the floor, with several spouts and circular shelves.

When she finished, she shut off the water and donned a robe and padded into the bedroom, nicking a second nightgown from the armoire.

Flicking on the lantern nearest to the vanity, she sat down on the plush seat to comb her hair. About halfway through, she lost her grip on it, and the comb dropped to the floor. She picked it up and was about to resume her ministrations but hesitated when seeing Loki in the reflection of the mirror.

"That's not at all unnerving," she said, miffed, and began picking at her hair again. "Did you know it's bad manners coming into a woman's quarters without being invited?"

Nonplused, he conjured an identical vanity seat and sat next to her, his back to the mirror. "You seemed to enjoy dessert."

Scoffing, she shot him a knowing glare. "Fandral believes himself charming, but I wasn't sold."

"That's not what I meant." His mouth split into a wide, consuming smile. "What did you do to him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"One moment, he was rather taken with you. The next, he couldn't ignore you fast enough."

Setting down her comb, Hermione pumped some of her special serum into her hand and smoothed it through her mane before separating the locks to weave a quick side braid. Loki moved in closer and brushed his lips over her jawline, whispering, "You cast a little magic on him."

"Nope."

His chuckle was light and breathy, and he cupped her face, turned her head so he could press their brows together. She smiled weakly and kissed him, her lips gentle and unassuming against his. When she pulled away, he sought for more, and she patted his chest and shook her head.

"No. You need to leave."

"Do you really want me to?"

Hermione glanced at Jane's form on the bed in the corner of her eye. "Yes."

"Won't you join me in my chambers? She won't be bothered there."

"Loki," she said, exhaling softly. "The more you beg, the less I want you. You want me, then earn me."

" _How!_ " he hissed.

Hermione froze, holding her breath as Jane shifted on the bed. She did not wake up, thankfully. Glaring at Loki, Hermione got up from her chair and headed towards the double doors. She flung open one and marched into the hallway.

Only to discover it wasn't a hallway at all but a large bedroom connected to a balcony. Shelves and shelves of books, scrolls, and manuscripts lined the walls as well as a few armoires and artifacts perched on pedestals. Rolling her eyes, she whirled around and folded her arms. She shook her head and gestured to her surroundings. "Do you really not know at all how to court a woman?"

Surprised, he started towards her. "Lady Hermione, I thought I was to bed you."

"I do have something called self-respect. Yes, I'm attracted to you. I like kissing you, but I would never sleep with a man only because I can. I'm not that sort of woman, and if you thought I was—"

"What else was I supposed to think? You're going to leave in a few days. Apologies, but I didn't feel it prudent to take your hand and whisper dull siliques and false promises into your ears. What I honestly thought you were was a woman of logic. I thought you practical."

"I am." Hermione nodded, biting her lip and shrugging. "And I am a woman who likes to be cared for. Not taken _care of_ but held in high regard and appreciated. Like any and every person ever. Your _yanking_ me into secret corners to snog me or whisk me away for a short moment are not doing any of those things. I assume you've had past dealing with women and wives who were eager to give you all and everything, but I am not them. I'm going to make you work for it."

Loki stared at her for a long while. He clasped his hands behind his back and stole a few steps closer to her. He looked down at her and skimmed a hooked finger over her jaw and to her chin, thumbing it and using it tilt back her head. He laughed breathily, and she couldn't tell whether he was amused, upset, or both.

"I've never had to beg for a woman's company."

"You mean you've only bothered to sleep with women who reciprocated your interest. May I ask—because I'm curious—am I the only woman who's put up a fuss?"

"I…" he reached around her and undid her braid, "like your hair down." He combed his fingers through the still damp tresses. His ministrations were gentle and soothing, and her big dinner and hot shower finally sunk deep into her weary body.

"You should cut yours," she murmured and then yawned. "Are you going to take me back to my room, or am I going to have to find my way around this…oh!" Her protest withered when she sunk into his feather soft, squishy bed. Her hands smoothed over the wondrous material of the comforter and sheets, and it was like she was resting on a cloud.

"Tired?" Loki asked, half-naked. He wore black trousers and she looked over the edge of the bed at his feet. He was ready to join her.

"You're a bad man," she whispered, chortling quietly and shifting on her side, facing away from him. "A retched, horrible thing."

He covered her in the sheets and blankets, tucking her in before doing some sort of half somersault over her. He, too, got underneath the covers, and Hermione found herself prancing on the road of temptation. There was a fit, half-naked man beside her, and she was exhausted. He didn't seem like the type to cuddle, but she wondered if she could convert him.

"I hate you," she said, smiling sleepily.

"You and everyone else."

"Your brother doesn't. Your father doesn't either. Although, I'm fairly certain the latter sees you as a temperamental, misbehaving war-prize rather than a son."

Fifteen seconds later, Hermione stalked out of Loki's room, surprising the ten guards outside of his room. They blinked at her, their hands on the hilts of their swords and questions and accusations jumping on their lips. They were not allowed to speak, though. Their status was respected, they were treated like the help and, therefore, acted as such. It was not their place to speak to her, even though she was nothing more than the Midgardian cousin of the future queen.

Hermione dropped her eyes on the floor and then nodded jerkily, briskly walking in a random direction before two guards rushed in front of her and guided her down a stairwell and to Jane's room. She entered the quarters, her cousin still asleep and quietly stole a pillow and a knitted blanket from the bed, snuggling up on the chaise and only a little sore of Loki's venomous response to her quip. He had called her a menopausal bilgesnipe, and she had no idea what a bilgesnipe was at all. The insult, overall, was weak. She had caught him off guard, and his tongue scrambled pathetically for a comeback, barely managing one. It would've been comical, if he hadn't incidentally struck a nerve.

Menopausal.

Hermione hadn't allowed him to see her annoyance, merely gifting him an accomplished smile when he ordered her to leave his room immediately.

A large part of her was relieved. Loki was done with her. She had said one of her 'truthful things', thus, forcing him away. It wasn't something she dwelt on constantly, but she was good at getting people to hate her. The friends she managed to make while growing up and in her adult life were deep and full of respect. She had made a decent load for herself, but her enemies outweighed her allies tenfold.

Hermione wasn't counting the ones she put in Azkaban during her time as a Hit Witch.

Not for the first time, Hermione accepted she was not a very likeable person, and she made terrible first impressions. When she was recruited into the Auror Academy, she owned it and stopped trying so hard.

Sometimes, people were idiots, and if she didn't tell them, who would? In some ways, she was giving them a service. They should be grateful.

Shifting onto her back, Hermione stared up at the high ceiling, thinking of Ron.

The only man who had loved her, regardless of her personality fails.

Well…Malfoy had, but he didn't count. She would never count him for anything _ever_. He was dead to her.

"You're going to die alone because no one is going to love you again," she whispered to herself and was bothered by how unbothered she felt about the possibility and started fantasizing about retiring early and leaving England in favor of France or maybe even the States. Perhaps she'd adopt a child or several and pour all her energy into being a mother and authoress. She need not die alone if she could start a new life with new prospects.

She smiled at the fantasy, thinking of all the strings she'd had have to pull and sever to accomplish such a lifestyle change.

Her smile faltered when feeling a man (clearly Loki) curl up behind her on the chaise, his arm draping over her middle. His face was buried in her unbound hair, and his breath puffed heavily on the back of her neck.

"My God, you're a creep. I though we were done," she whispered.

"You need your own quarters."

"Jane arranged something for me, but she wanted me here tonight. I'm surprised she fell asleep. I was a nervous wreck the night before my wedding."

"Ah, but she's with child. It's taking its toll. It will worsen as the months go on. She's Midgardian, after all."

Hermione craned her head. "It's not…This isn't going to kill her, right?"

"Your cousin is very small and feeble." Loki moved his arm from her middle and palmed her ribs, the dip of her waist, and the jutting knob of her hipbone. "Must be a familial trait. I do suspect Jane Foster's gestational period to be uncomely. She'll be miserable in her later months, but she'll live. "

"I almost feel bad that I'm going to miss it."

Loki said nothing for a moment. Surprisingly, his arm dropped to drape around her middle once more, even going so far as to tighten his hold. He maneuvered closer, essentially spooning her whilst her cousin slept, unaware of the events taking place a half a room away.

"This is wildly inappropriate," she said, blushing when feeling a certain part of him against her bum. He slung her hair over her shoulder and pressed soft, yet purposeful kisses on the back of her neck. Her heart's rhythm increased and her belly clench, and she both loved and hated that he was catching on to how she liked to be treated.

"Would you like to come back to my chambers?" he offered.

"You'll only kick me out again."

"Only if you deserve it."

"Fair point." She hummed contently when his lips travelled to her up the slope of her neck and to her earlobe. As much as his ministrations excited her, they also slowly deflated the tension in her shoulders and spine. It didn't help when he started massaging her outer thigh and bum, though he probably believed he was lewdly and seductively groping her.

"You're falling asleep," he accused.

"Uh huh."

"Hermione."

She peeled one eye open, suddenly liking how her name sounded on his tongue. "Loki."

"I want to show you something."

"Mmm," she noised in dismay, rubbing her cheek into the padding of the chaise.

"You'll like it," he said, his tone melodic and promising.

"Show me tomorrow."

"We'll be far too busy." He got up from the chaise and walked around, offering his hand.

"What do you want to show me?"

"Everything."

* * *

Still dressed in a nightdress and with slippers on her feet, Hermione paused at the threshold of the room Loki took her, his body flush against her back and his chin resting atop of her head. He caressed her arms with the backs of his fingers, and she soaked in the phenomenal sight before her.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"The private library of the present and past Allfathers. What you're looking at," he coaxed her into the room, "is the Tree of Yggdrasil. Well…a rather pretentious projection of it, anyway. The books and scrolls and whatnots are behind all this fuss."

Hermione blinked and then swallowed, licking her lips. She chuckled, bewildered, and said, "It's like I'm in space. Is this what Yggdrasil _really_ looks like?"

"More or less."

"It's incredible." Hermione went to step forward, wanting to stand in the middle and study every swirl of colors and every star. Astronomy nor astrology had been her cup of tea. She'd done what was necessary in her secondary level studies to achieve her O's, but if this what the sky promised, she wanted to know it desperately, intimately. She now understood her cousin's passion a fraction more.

Loki did not let go of her, following her into the projection and stood with her in the middle of Yggdrasil. Her fingers reached out to touch the lowest hanging branch which blossomed at the end into a realm. Expectedly, she felt nothing, but she almost expected to feel something for how real it all looked. A swish of heat from the cosmos or a peppering of chilliness from the empty voids.

"Which ones are which? I forget."

She hadn't forgotten but wanted to hear him speak. She wanted him to whisper each name into her ear like it was a secret only to be shared with someone worthy and special.

She wasn't disappointed and when he finished the last—Midgard—she was a puddle of exhausted, fractionally besotted Hermione against his chest.

A solemn, self-loathing sigh blew out of her, and she knew she was in trouble. Had been since the moment she saw him at breakfast.

"I want to see you do magic again," she said. She turned around and their foreheads touched. He smiled that terrifying smile at her. "Not the disappearing and reappearing. Something else."

"You first," he challenged.

Hermione opened her mouth to say no but then closed it, changing her mind. Her wand wasn't on her, but she could make do without. A Hit Witch who couldn't magic without a wand was a dead Hit Witch.

Lifting a closed hand, she opened her palm to reveal a ray of pure white light. Her heart stuttered and dove into her stomach when not seeing her otter. Her Patronus didn't take its form. She closed her hand into a fist and then tried again. Again, no otter.

"Something the matter?" asked Loki.

She broke free from his hold and said, "I have to go. Please don't bother me for the rest of the night."

She sprinted out of the library and into the hallway, walking briskly back to Jane's room until she passed by a cluster of guards—some of them the same to those who had been guarding Loki's door not twenty minutes prior. They all did a double-take at her before three broke from the group to escort her back to the quarters.

Hermione didn't fall asleep for a long time. She'd tried to comfort herself with the little things, such as being able to still cast. It wasn't lost on Hermione, the meaning was behind the disappearance of her otter. She wasn't confused or doubting her own capabilities. She was, however, doubting she'd see her otter again. When her Patronus did settle for another form, it would be something else entirely.

* * *

The wedding took place at dawn, and Hermione arrived early on the ceremonial grounds, making it a priority to ensure Jane would have her table at the altar.

It wasn't there.

"You look upset," said Loki, the man literally appearing out of nowhere and by her side. "Something wrong?"

Folding her arms, Hermione and explained, "The table that Jane wanted is not here."

"Aesir weddings aren't known for having tables at the bonding ceremony, Lady Hermione."

"Well, Jane is not Aesir, is she?" Hermione clipped. "She has her own traditions and ancestors to please."

"Such is the way of the woman marrying into her husband's family. She has to give up her own if she wants to be Thor's companion and Asgard's queen. When you married, didn't you bid farewell to your parent's customs? Anyway, Jane will make do without. It's something she'll have to get used to because not having this _table_ is just the beginning. I think if Thor or anyone for that matter bothered to tell Jane what being queen of Asgard entailed, she wouldn't have been so hasty in agreeing to marry my brother. She has no idea what's in store for here, and it will be entertaining watching her grapple."

Guests started to filter onto the ceremonial grounds, and Hermione stepped closer to Loki, tilting her head and regarding him thoughtfully. Eventually, she said, "I want Jane to have a table up there at the altar. If you were to arrange for one to be there—a nice round one—I would be persuaded to pay you a visit this evening after all the celebrations and festivities are over. If you don't, I'll take what you said about Jane to heart and be offended and won't bother indulging in your advances any longer. You'll never touch me again."

Loki knotted his hands behind his back. "Don't think so highly of yourself. Like I would go to such extents for the future queen in order to bed you. Once I had you, I wouldn't have touched you again. Yes, I'd like your company in my chambers, but you are hardly worth the effort-"

"Do shut up."

"I'm being honest. Truthful. Like yourself. Also…what upset you last night that caused you to run off? I thought we were enjoying ourselves."

Hermione smoothed out the invisible wrinkles of his leather and armor. She paused and smirked up at him through her lashes. "I know what you want, Loki. You'll do what's necessary to get it." Her smirk turned into a mischievous grin. "You look very handsome."

His posture still rigid and his features aloof, he grabbed her hand and brought her knuckles to his mouth, kissing her middle one gently. He let her go and said, "It was pleasant speaking with you, Lady Hermione."

Hermione faltered from the change his in behavior, but understood when seeing Odin enter the ceremonial hall. The elderly man's jaw was clenched, his mouth scowling. He greeted nor waved to any of the guests and took his place from behind the wooden, round table. She stared back at Loki, only to fine him gone.

Hermione took her place on third-highest step leading up to the altar. On the opposite staircase, Loki stood on the third-highest step, as well, his expression bored. He wore his helm, and she had a difficult time not staring at it. The design was distracting and comical as it was disturbing. She remembered the news footage from Stuttgart, and the lovely way he had chosen to introduce himself to her planet.

God, did she really want to invite that selfish, murderous monster into her bed?

Her eyes landed on the round table. She had said she would if he gave Jane her table, and it wouldn't be simple backing out of the deal. Throwing her meanest, most unnerving insult at him would stall him for but a moment.

The ceremony took over an hour to complete, and the entire time, Odin spoke in another language. Thor seemed to understand his father perfectly while Jane's eyes glazed over and started glancing over at the sun like it was a clock. Hermione empathized and yearned to sit for a moment. Her legs and back smarted from standing so long and from the extra weight of the armor covering her bust and the heavy material of her, deep golden dress.

She was also cold.

Very cold.

Her arms were bare, bumpy from the early morning chill. The dress the chamber maid forced on her didn't have sleeves. They did, however, rub some sort of shimmery gel on her arms that helped, but it had been more for cosmetic purposes rather than keeping her warm.

Finally, the ceremony ended and Thor enthusiastically walked Jane around her table and kissed her. Several archers pointed enflamed arrows towards the sun and released them. Cheers and clapping erupted, and Hermione joined them, albeit a bit more quietly, limiting herself to clapping and grin genuinely and somberly for her cousin. The easy part was over.

An all-day celebration of food and dancing took place in the great hall of the palace. Wine and mead flowed freely into everyone's goblets (except for Jane's), and a plate was never entirely finished before it was replaced with a full one. At midday, there was a parade, and children danced in the streets and skipped behind the float of the king and the new queen. Hermione almost believed it mattered not to any of the Aesir that Jane was of Midgard, but she came to know the people of the realm loved celebrations. For a moment, they would ignore their queen was not one of their own in light of laughing, dancing, singing, drinking, and eating.

Hermione's own wedding day hadn't felt this long, so when the sun started to sink and her stomach couldn't stomach one more bite of food, she found a chair and sat down. She'd only sat for a minute before a gentleman (the nineteenth, in fact) invited her to dance. He was more handsome than the last, and she hoped her sleepy smile was pretty when she took his hand. Like the many before him, he complimented her on her beauty and wished to know more of Midgard. When she started talking about certain wedding traditions in her realm, he interrupted her and asked of the ring on her finger.

"I'm married."

She didn't even make it back to the seat before being asked to dance again. This time by Odin.

Since the former Allfather was on the floor, the music slowed to a more moderate pace and the other partners fell in sync to what must've been a traditional style of dance. The steps were easy enough to pick up on, mostly stepping in whatever direction and twirling every once in a while.

"To what I do I owe the pleasure, Allfather," she said politely.

"I am no longer the Allfather, Lady Hermione," he said.

"I don't know what else to call you."

"Don't strain yourself in trying to figure that out. I expect our conversation to be brief."

"I'm afraid you're stuck with Jane if that's what this is about."

Odin frowned, his one eye glaring because of her bluntness. "This is about Loki."

"I suppose I should apologize for my behavior yesterday morning."

"Ah, but you won't." He looked amused and almost impressed. "Alas, this discussion does not concern your first encounter with my youngest. I'm more concerned about all the ones following."

Hermione closed her eyes as she and Odin switched places, licking her teeth and debating whether to feign shock.

"If you're upset about it," she started, "then I'll be happy to add one more excuse to the load of reasons why you won't have to worry about me and Loki. It's nothing."

"I could be blind and know that's not true."

"Doesn't matter. I'm leaving in two days." She added a beat later, "To go back home to my husband."

"I'm going to be direct," said Odin. "You carry yourself better than my eldest son's mistake, but you are no less a threat to this realm. I know what you are, Lady Hermione, and I've chosen to not to let my realm know of your true nature. You are the last thing in all the realms and unknown galaxies Loki needs. Someone like you could unravel everything I worked so hard to procure with him. Whatever understanding you have with my son, it ends tonight. Cease your relations and be on your way."

The music ended, and Hermione dipped her head in a bow. "Thank you, sir. That was a lovely dance."

She walked off the floor and to the nearest chair, the seat within a few feet before Loki grabbing her hand and urging her back into the mass of people. The music started again, and she found herself repeating the same steps as she did before, this time more begrudgingly.

"What did Odin say to you?" asked Loki.

"I'm apparently not good enough for you, and I'm not to interact with you after tonight." Hermione slowed her steps when Loki came frowned and stopped dancing.

"Did you say you would?"

"Not really."

Loki scoffed bitterly. "The nerve of him."

"You should feel flattered he cares."

"Do you think Thor was flattered when Odin blatantly told him he could not have Jane? Odin doesn't care, Hermione. He wants control and to damn everyone to misery in order to keep it."

"Oh, Loki," Hermione said, exhaling. "You were miserable before you met me and still were when you did. It'll be the same when I leave. Don't blame your father for your own unhappiness. If you dislike him so much, don't let him have that power. Dictate your own life."

"I'm bound here," he reminded coldly. "I cannot leave."

"Then decide how you want to react. You have choices, you know, and your imprisonment isn't that terrible. You can choose to be grateful about not being in the dungeon for your actions or dead even. Your crimes should've gained a death sentence, but here you are…alive and whining like spoiled baby because you believe in a whole bunch of bullshit that isn't true. Yes, your father's an arse, but making him a scapegoat for your belligerence and mistakes is giving him too much credit."

"You're wrong about one thing, Lady Hermione."

"And what is that?"

"I wouldn't have called myself miserable…when we met. Or after. So with that said, when do you plan to retire for the evening?"

"The minute I get a chance to tell Jane how my feet feel like they are going to fall off."

"What are you waiting for then?"

"Excuse me, she's a bit preoccupied with every self-important person trying to talk at her and Thor."

"Come and find me when you do manage to bid her goodnight."

"I'm going to—"

Hermione quieted when feeling Jane embrace her from behind. Her cousin squeezed her tightly and mumbled, "So I decided you're staying for a few more days than originally planned. Deal with it. Love you. Oh, and Loki? Thor has asked me to tell you to leave my cousin alone. I'd ask the same, but you don't care about a single thing that comes out of my mouth. Isn't that right?"

"Hey," Hermione said gently, turning in her cousin's arms. "Why don't you and Thor sneak out and go enjoy your honeymoon, huh?"

"He's busy," Jane said, helpless and casting a longing glance at Thor on his throne who stared grimly at the group of men surrounding him.

"Just go whisper into his ear you want to have sex."

Loki made a disgusted sound, and Hermione sent him an annoyed glance. "Oh, you're still here. _Why?_ "

The man looked like he couldn't decide whether to strangle her or kiss her. He opted for an exaggerative bow directed towards Jane. "My queen," he said, his lips curled in disgust.

"Go play in traffic."

He shot her a perplexed expression and left. When neither woman no longer saw him, Jane exhaled in relief and then stifled a yawn. "You didn't have to dance with him, you know. I would've loved to have seen you shoot him down with all these people around. He needs to be humiliated and _bad_."

"I think after his debacle in New York, everything else is going to seem minuscule. I don't think getting publicly rejected is going to deflate his pride," Hermione said, shrugging. "And we didn't dance for that long." Hermione rocked on her heels, wincing as they pulsed and throbbed. "And it was my last. I'm a terrible, awful bridesmaid, but I need to go to bed. Not all of us having a spectacular excuse not to drink and prance around like a lunatic."

"You're leaving me?" Jane jutted out her lip. "Pweeeeeeze don't."

"Go snatch Thor. Start your honeymoon. No one will notice for a while."

"Yeah," her cousin said, biting her lip and glancing at her husband. "I guess I could do what you said earlier. Go whisper into his ear about stuff. Even though I think I'd rather do a back-crawl across a bed of flaming hot coals. Ugh!" She cupped her stomach, and her face turned a greyish-green. "Everyone and everything smells. Even Thor. Is that bad?"

"It's not good." Hermione reflected on her own wedding night and wondered what Ron's reaction would've been if she had refused him then.

He would've bemoaned it for ages.

"And I feel fat."

Hermione took her cousin's hand. "You don't look it," she sort-of lied. Jane wasn't by any means pudgy, but her cheeks were a tad rounder, and her high-waist dress emphasized her swollen breast. Hermione ran the pad of her thumb over Jane's fingers and noticed they were pinker and fleshier than they were in November.

"Thanks."

"And if you don't want to do it tonight, you don't have to. You two are going to be married for, like, ever. I'm sure you can find five minutes in all that time to consummate this thing."

A blushing Jane groaned, mortified, and covered her face. "It's just expectations. It's like a worldwide, cultural thing you do when you get married. An intergalactic thing, really."

This conversation was going on longer than Hermione cared for. Her mead slash wine buzz was wearing off, and she felt more horrible by the second. She regretted telling Loki she'd pay him a visit if he were to grant her cousin a table at the altar. He pulled through, and now she no longer wanted to hold up her end of the deal. If she was going to take advantage of her and Ron's separation, she wanted to feel sexy and spry. Not irritated and sluggish.

She tried to convince herself it was fine. Loki didn't deserve a sensual, peppy woman to warm his bed for an evening. He deserved a hungover, short-tempered grouch.

Hermione tried, smiling in pain. "I adore you. You're, like, a quarter of my heart. But my brain is shutting down, and I feel like I've danced _Gangnman Style_ for a century on that bed of hot coals."

"You're the worst bridesmaid ever. Who's going to hold my dress when I have to pee?"

"Make Odin do it."

Her cousins snorted, dabbing at her sleepy tears. "Oh, my God, could you imagine?"

"Nope. I'm braindead now. Good night." Hermione hugged her cousin, kissing her on the cheek before hobbling out of the hall and into the corridor. Two guards jumped to her side, and she asked them to take her to own private quarters. Halfway there, she almost asked if one of them would carry her. They would probably do it. Wouldn't want to ruffle the new queen's feathers by disobeying her cousin's request.

Hermione nearly cried when seeing her room all perfect with its large, luxurious bed. The sheets were turned down on one side, and she regretfully did not allow temptation to sink in. As badly as she wanted to rip off her dress and delve underneath the covers, she walked into the bathroom and drew a bath. The dress came off, laying in a puddle of yellow on the ceramic-tiled floor as she slowly lowered herself in the pool-like structure. She did not swim around but carefully kept the edges, not trusting herself to stay awake.

When the hot water started doing its magic, she folded her arms on the edge of the tub and rested her head on them. A few moments later, a figure appeared in the corner of her eye, and she lifted her head and saw Loki still dressed in his formal-wear.

"Pervert," she accused drowsily and instinctively looked away when he began removing the metallic plates and gauntlets of his attire.

"Your chambers will do for tonight, even though I'd rather have you in mine."

"Whatever."

In her peripheral, she saw him pause briefly and then continue stripping down. When she caught a glimpse of his naked torso, she squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed. Bloody hell, she wanted to sleep, but what she promised Loki was going to happen first.

And she was frightened.

She'd never slept with another man before nor had been naked in front of one, with the exception of a healer. There had only been Ron.

"Are you afraid?"

She kept her sight off him. "I confess to be in foreign territory."

"Both literally and metaphorically," he said, and she itched to mold herself into the nearest corner. She sensed he was lowering himself into the water, and she questioned whether she wanted their time to be spent in the water. The bed was preferable.

She moved her head to stare at the opposite wall, still resting on her arms. The soapy, bubbly water moved around her, and Loki sprung up from the foam into her line of sight. She reached her arm towards him, picking strands of soaked hair of his face. Her brow furrowed, and she sighed. "Are you sure you really want this?"

"Are you?"

"No," she replied honestly.

"You question whether I'll hurt you or not."

"That's not my initial concern, no." She caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers and slightly pushed away from the edge of the tub. Her eyes drifted from his face and slid down his neck, ultimately reaching his ribs where the water reached. The bubbles obscured everything below, and she didn't know whether to be thankful or not. There was a fascination; she wasn't going to lie. She, however, wasn't entirely sure she was ready to satiate her curiosity. Three nights ago, yes, she knew the odds of she and Ron reconciling were slim, yet the divorce papers had run her over like a freight train. Everything was happening so fast and recklessly, and she wanted to blame all her behavior on Ron's wish to be rid of her.

It was really her—

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

She was done taking the blame on everything that went wrong.

This was Malfoy's fault. If that prick had minded his p's and q's, she wouldn't be here in this scandalous, semi-adulterous situation. She would be in Godric's Hallow plumping up her expensively purchased, adopted baby from Magical Goba with passed down recipes of Molly Weasley's. Hermione would be kissing little toes and little fingers and chubby cheeks, not dismissing her mother's teachings at the educated and mature age of thirty-four.

"My concern is…" Her words faded while Loki nipped at her wrist. His hands found her waist and her spine was soon pressed back against the slippery edge of the tub. For what felt like hours, until the water became lukewarm, his fingers and mouth explored practically every part of her person—to the point of insanity—before requesting they finish their party in the bedroom. Loki barely gave her enough time to dry and then had her hating and loving life all over again.

The sex was dirty, passionate, and obscenely intimate. It wasn't the kind two individuals would perform together unless they were 'together', and in the midst of their lovemaking, Loki paused above her and reminded her of what Jane said hours prior at the celebration. Her cousin told her she had to stick around.

"Are you?" asked Loki.

Hermione nodded, panting, and he pressed his nose against hers, resuming his wickedly delightful ministrations.

Until an hour or two before dawn, Loki kept her awake until she couldn't take anymore, the beast actually bringing her to the brink of tears. He looked upon her in awe—and he was probably more pleased with himself than her—and allowed her rest. She half-heartedly covered herself in a wrinkled, mussed sheet and then passed out point blank.

To be Continued...


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: This chapter takes place in the fall following Jane's and Thor's wedding just in case my readers are unsure of the what's and where's. :)

* * *

 **Asgard**

 **November 2014**

It would've been a lie saying everything worked out after Hermione and Loki escaped Jotunheim, hopped over to Earth's Puente Antiguo desert, and were safely transported to Asgard via Bi-frost. The return to the Realm Eternal was a quiet one. There was no celebration for the prince's homecoming. In fact, Thor did not announce to his people his brother was alive and well until a week later. In no way did he want Loki's rescue to be associated with Hermione's return from "Midgard", and she was grateful for it.

A month passed since Jotunheim, and Hermione's pride started to fray. Thirty-three days being upset with Loki was taking its toll on her. The moment they crash-landed into Asgard there was an unspoken agreement they would take a break, and Hermione was certain he would crack first. He always did. It was their game. He'd get upset with her, cast her aside before he did something he regretted and then seek her out five minutes later when he cooled off.

Apparently the frost giants tortured his game-playing antics out of him. Not once in those thirty-three days did he seek her out. Thirty of those days, and she wondered if he was waiting for her to come to him this time. Well…if that was the case, he would have to wait longer.

Poking at her eggs, Hermione glanced up from her breakfast plate to see Loki reading a book over his untouched food, and she admitted to herself that she was kind of afraid he was done with her. For real this time.

She couldn't be the one to go to him.

She wouldn't.

Her pride frayed a bit more and not only that, she began to feel guilty for thrusting that ultimatum on him back in that cave. Ultimatums were sometimes necessary, but they could also be selfish and a poor way in getting the upper hand in a relationship. Relationships were not about having the upper hand but being on level with each other, and she'd demanded he yield to her and for what reason? She wanted a baby? With him? With some other bloke?

No.

She inwardly shook her head and set down her fork, resting her head on the support of her elbow.

No, her ultimatum hadn't been about getting a baby from him or any other man. She could achieve that simply with a splash of patience and good planning.

Hermione told Loki in the cave about compromise which was fine if she'd meant it. Truthfully, she really just wanted control of the relationship because she thought too highly of herself.

This was not the first time she'd pulled a stunt like this. She'd said and done similar things at the beginning of hers and Ron's relationship, and he had taken it like he didn't know better because he hadn't. Loki did know better, and he was punishing her for it which meant she angered him enough this time that not only did he—metaphorically speaking—throw her out of his room, but he bolted the door.

It didn't help Asgard was playing host to Vanaheim's royalty for the month in honor of the Realm Alliance Thor, Jane, and the rest of the council members were trying to assemble. That part was all well and good, but the guests were searching for something a little more solid than participating in the union.

Hermione was stupidly comforted by the ambivalence Loki showed towards Princess Aslaug of Vanaheim. Jane had informed Hermione over tea and biscuits two days following King Alvid's and Princess Aslaug's arrival that the king was pressing Thor for an arranged marriage between his sister and Loki.

" _It doesn't matter she looks like a hybrid between Tyra Banks and Beyonce,"_ Jane quipped, mouth full of sugary biscuits, _"Loki's not going to touch her on principle. Thor knows this better than anyone, but we have to play nice with Vanaheim."_

Princess Aslaug was sitting next to Loki, the perfect picture of beauty and elegance. Her spine was straight and proud, her dress rose petal pink and her skin the color of rich, expensive chocolate. She would speak to Loki in a strange, eerie language, and he would respond flatly, not looking up from his book.

The princess's patience was wearing thin, and Hermione watched her put a gentle and almost unassuming hand high up on his arm. A flare of jealousy and possessiveness shot through Hermione, and she turned her head to see Jane who had that faraway look in her eyes again. It was ironic. Her cousin had dreamt of stars and galaxies and such, but when an actual prince charming came and whisked her away to live amongst them, she fantasized of home.

Home.

Hermione didn't blame Jane. She wanted to go home, too. Maybe they should both leave. Take Daphne and go back to London.

Jane would never agree. She was stuck in that kind of love with Thor where she wasn't one hundred percent happy but would be completely miserable without him. Nonetheless, she was a scientist and not a queen. Her existence were theories and scribbled notes, not ruling and real life.

Hermione supposed Jane wasn't _just_ a scientist anymore nor a queen. She was a mum before both and would stay in Asgard forever, even if Daphne one day became the only reason Jane would stay.

In the middle of the discussion Thor was having with King Alvid, Thor paused and turned to Jane. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, whispered into her ear, and then kissed her knuckles before turning his attention back to the other king.

Like a charm, Jane no longer appeared homesick and smiled wistfully to herself.

An hour later when Hermione was to meet her cousin in the main library to help Jane organize her notes, she found Jane and Thor in a compromising position.

The notes Hermione was to help with were askew, strewn and spread over the study table and floor. She stood there, off to the side, for an embarrassing amount of time before backpedaling out the library and into the corridor. Her cheeks were inflamed, and she would've laughed if she was fifteen years old, a boy, and not Jane's cousin.

She resided to be traumatized and scoured the halls, now having nothing better to do since her plans were cancelled. Daphne was with her caretaker and most likely napping, so snuggling and playing with her was out of the question. There was the possibility of finding Loki and apologizing, but that prideful blockade in her brain kept her from it. Somehow she'd have to destroy it before she lost the key to Loki's bolted door, and their break fell into a break _up_ , and the apple he tricked her with had really turned into a big waste of both their lives.

Passing by the terrace looking out over the gardens, Hermione decided to have her fill of fresh air and stepped outside. Inhaling the crisp air of the kingdom, she rested her elbows on the stone railing and paid no mind to the accusing, beady glares from Hugin and Munin. They stared at her hungrily, one of them squawking at her long and slow.

For whatever reason, Odin's horrible birds hated her more than they did Jane. She didn't know why. She'd done nothing to them. Absolutely nothing. The first time she'd even seen them had been four days after Jotunheim, and it was like she couldn't avoid them.

"I'm going to pretend you're not even here," she said, not bothering to look at them. "Because I hate you."

A festival was taking place all this week, thus, the reason why Vanaheim's royalty chose this particular week to visit. Palace workers and groundskeepers were littered about the gardens setting up tents and lights in preparation for the first night of celebration. Despite her somber mood and utter selfishness, she was looking forward to all the activities she'd see. Maybe too much to drink, laughter, and food would take her mind off how badly she wanted Loki to come to her and how badly she wanted to go home.

Biting her lip, she squinted when the sun peaked out from behind the clouds and tried to think of way to leave Asgard without offending Jane. There were many scenarios, many lies Hermione could cook up, but dishing them out may not be the best approach. Jane wished to go home, too, and Hermione wouldn't have trouble playing on that. Leaving forever perhaps wasn't the best option but a holiday on Earth would be nice.

Hermione knew doing that was akin to running from her problems. Loki was not allowed to be on Earth, so he'd be stuck here with the other council members whilst she, Jane, Daphne, and Thor lounged about on the beaches of Kos.

Now she was getting ahead of herself but with the Asgardian air shifting to nippy and her mind clouded with indecision, a white sandy, blue water vacation sounded divine. She'd freckle more than tan because she wasn't thirteen anymore and drink more orzo and wine than suggested. Books waiting to be read would weigh heavy in her satchel, and she would think of nothing or no one while laying on an inclined chair and enjoy hearing the waves of the ocean crash into the shore.

As for Jane and Thor, they'd be elsewhere. Jane would take him and Daphne on a tour of the ruins, explaining the gods her ancestors worshiped. She would tell him stories of Olympus and Troy, and he would listen intently like an enthralled student in love with his attractive history teacher.

Ah, there she was getting ahead of herself again.

Taking the stairs adjacent to the terrace and walking the grounds, Hermione entered the gardens, submerging deep within the maze-like landscape. Twenty minutes in, she rested at a clearing on the edge of a fountain, pulling out a book from her pouch where she kept her wand. It was an old journal from five years ago. The purpose of it was to not write down her angst-ridden troubles or happy events life tossed at her. No, the journal was one of many, and they were her "memories" of when she was a hit witch. These were her missions, and she started reading them again after she left Jotunheim.

Hugin and Munin flew above her, circling like they were buzzards and she was roadkill before swooping down and landing beside her. She stared at them for a while and said, "I killed people."

Munin spread his wings and snapped his beak at her, and Hugin did his weird, long squawk again.

"Do you want to know the first person I killed?" she asked them. "I do, too. I didn't know her at all. I never saw her before. I didn't know what she did to deserve her fate, but it was my final test, and I had to pass it. I never fail." She strained her head to stare over her shoulder at the water falling behind her from the fountains spout. "Not then, anyway."

The ravens watched her intently, their massive fowl bodies not moving at all. She smiled at them and opened her journal to the page her thumb was trapped on, and she read aloud in a quiet voice, _"His name is Gellous Frack. He specializes in human trafficking. He has other_ talents _about him, as well. New Orleans is his playground, but all over the world, people feel his misdeeds. He…"_

Her voice hitched and she closed the book. There were many reasons why she waited as long as she did to reflect on those years. It wasn't like she pretended they hadn't happened. She pretended it was someone else because it had often felt like being a stranger when she'd been out in the field. When she'd killed, she never was Hermione Granger. She'd been Morgan Black, Allison Kane, Delly Ford, Bianca Korchv. The list was damned near endless, all of those women were nothing like herself.

Although in Jotunheim when she cursed that valley and the fire consumed all in its pathway, including living giants, that had been her, hadn't it?'

Loki knew more than Hermione was comfortable with about her world of magic. He knew too much from their pillow talk back in March, but he didn't know about this. No one really did, honestly. Jane believed her to be in law enforcement, and Ron knew the surface details and lies. She was a hit witch, and she often collaborated with Aurors from other countries to ensure a criminal's capture. The second part was completely false. She had never dealt with Aurors when doing her job. They were their own thing on the purer side of law. Their department played by the rules while hers had very little rules to begin with. Their priority was _not_ capture.

Opening her journal again, Hermione went to the first page, far from where she'd originally been. "Let's not read from there." She cleared her throat and read, _"Chantel Burhman resides in Zurich. An anonymous tip has lead us to her, finally, after four years. Because of where she resides, there cannot be a public arrest nor is the higher-ranking ministry officials interested in conducting one. On my arrival there tonight, she will be offered a chance to leave Zurich and Switzerland if she turns herself in. If she does not comply, a hasty trial and execution will take place for her crimes—the treason she committed against her country by selling England's secrets to Syrian rebes which lead to the massacre in Hogsmeade, Winter 2005. There, many civilians which included students and younger children alike, were killed."_

Hermione continued reading for over an hour, to the point where her throat ached. She smiled sadly at Hugin and Munin, and closed the book. "I think that's enough, don't you?" She shoved the journal into her pouch and started to meander her way out of the garden, stopping after a while when seeing two figures in her peripheral residing in a dead end. It was Loki and Princess Aslaug.

And they seemed to be getting along quite _fetchingly_ as compared to breakfast.

Princess Aslaug must've sensed her, for she pulled back from Loki, her eyes wide from embarrassment. Hermione kept her focus on her and her alone.

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized and pointed at nothing, shrugging. "I was just…out walking. I didn't mean to intrude. Forgive me." She ducked her head and ran out of the gardens and into the palace, sprinting to the library and finding Jane with her notes and no Thor to be found.

"Hey, where were you?" Jane asked concerned, taking in Hermione's breathless state.

Exhaling heavily, Hermione smiled brightly. "I decided to go for a walk in the gardens and watch the groundskeepers decorate. It was really nice, and I'm not good at physics anyway—"

"Okay—"

"But I was thinking," Hermione stole the seat next to Jane, "after the festival is over we should all take a holiday back home. We can go to Kos. Thor will come, and it will be perfect."

Jane opened her mouth and then closed it, covering her mouth with her fingers and tapping her lips. "Huh."

"That's all you have to say?"

"No, it's just Thor told me a couple of hours ago he wants to do the same."

"He wants to go to Kos?" Hermione wrinkled her brow.

"Earth, Hermione. And, no, we're not going to Kos as fabulous as that sounds. He's going to introduce me to Tony Stark. Tony may have the resources and brains to jump start my very own Project Bi-frost. I can't work with this." Jane gestured to her surroundings. "I've been here for almost a year, and the technology still flabbergasts me. I'm lucky enough to know how to turn on my shower, so… _you,_ Daphne, Thor, and I are leaving for New York City after the new year. It's not Kos—"

"It's perfect." Hermione kissed Jane on the cheek.

Later, when Hermione was sitting at her vanity primping for the festival, Loki appeared in her mirror. His expression was neutral, and her defenses were up. For the better part of the afternoon, she convinced herself not to shed a single tear over what she saw in the gardens. She and Loki were not together, and he could kiss anyone he wanted. It had hurt, but she was strong and stubborn. No one would dare accuse her of anything less.

So, yes, her defenses were up, but she would not be indigent or petty.

Gripping her tube of mascara from her makeup kit, Hermione untwisted the cap and said, "May I help you with something?"

"I wanted to discuss what you saw in the garden earlier."

She shook her head, a small grin tugging at her lips. "We don't need to talk about it, Loki. It's not my business. We're not together, so even if I was, I wouldn't have a right to be. Plus, we don't really work. We fought all the time. It'd been fine, even fun at first, but then our disagreements became too serious, and neither one of us handled them right. If it were merely our differences keeping us from being happy, we'd find away. It's not that, though. We want different things, and neither of us want to compromise."

"She kissed _me_."

"You certainly looked like you didn't mind." She snapped her mouth shut, chastising herself for the outburst. Her tone had been indigent, damn it!

An arrogant grin split Loki's face in half. He arched his brows at her and said, "You've seen her, Hermione. Can you blame my hesitation in pushing her away?"

"You didn't have to push her away at all, you know? You could've...kept on going," she offered, shrugging. "Doesn't matter to me."

"It doesn't?" He locked his hands behind his back. "You're not the least bit put out? Or jealous?"

"I don't get jealous," she lied. "It's beneath me."

"Is that so?" His smile was still unnervingly shrewd. "Ah, well. I guess our affair has been exhausted then. You feel nothing for me which is good. It means you won't be at all upset when mine and Princess Aslaug's engagement is announced at the end of the week. I admit, it's not something I'm particularly happy about, but it's for the benefit of Asgard. The ties with Vanaheim need to be stabilized and secured, and I came here to explain that to you, so you'd know why the princess was so eager. I have appearances to uphold. Once she and I are married, however, I'll naturally have a mistress and since you are no longer interested-"

Unthinkingly, Hermione grabbed her brush from behind her and chucked it at him and quaked with mirth when it hit him square in the face. A part of her thought it would go through him, for he had a horrible habit of projecting himself. Like he knew if he visited with anyone for more than two minutes, it was likely something would get thrown at him.

The brush hadn't hurt him, but it wiped his face clean of his stupid smile.

"Did you just throw a brush at me?"

Hermione stood up and grabbed her wash bowl from the pedestal beside her and tossed it with all her force. It broke into several pieces when it hit his chest, and she yelled, "Get out!"

"Jealous now, are you?" His smirk was so malicious, so evil, it made Hermione's insides twist.

"You're not trying to make me jealous, Loki. You're trying to hurt me. _Really_ hurt me. You succeeded, so you can go."

Loki stilled and his facade broke. His eyes lingered on her face pensively, and he said, "I didn't mean any of that, Hermione."

"Oh, I know." She scoffed and folded her arms. "I know you're not going to marry her. There would never be a good enough reason for you to suffer an arranged marriage. You don't care about the ties with Vanaheim, and you certainly don't care about the princess, save she's pretty enough. But you wanted me to believe otherwise, even for a second, because you wanted to me feel bad about myself when I was trying to be cordial-"

"Cordial?" Loki sputtered. "There's not a cordial bone in your body, darling. You have all right manners, but it's spread thin over your temper and _pride_. I caved each and every time in the past post a dispute and returned to you, and you couldn't pay the same respect this one time. I thought you would at first, so I waited and waited like a fool because you said..." He chuckled emptily. "Well, I learned long ago women to be fickle."

Hermione frowned and stepped closer to him. "I risked my life to save you, so I was angry. I wanted a sign of good faith in return. I laid out all my feelings, wants, and desires for you to see. And you responded exactly how I feared you would. Indecisive. Childish. Annoyed. Because of how you reacted, I behaved irrationally by confusing control with compromise. I gave you the ultimatum, and it wasn't fair. But I didn't try to fix the problem at all when we got back, not only because of my pride but because I was really put out. I told you I loved you, and I meant it. You couldn't even agree to teach me Aesir."

If Loki had a quick, witty response, he kept it to himself. No words were exchanged until Hermione eventually commented ruefully, "I don't want Princess Aslaug to kiss you anymore."

A twinkle sparked in Loki's eyes. "I don't want you have a child with a stranger."

"But it wouldn't be-"

"Hermione," he said, reaching out and pinching her chin. It was a gesture of admonishment, simple. She rushed to him, encircling his middle and leaning her head against his chest. It wasn't exactly comfortable; he was dressed in his armor sans the helm. Hard, metal pieces and cold leather pushed against her cheek, and she sent a bemused glance up his direction. Was he or was he not going to return the embrace?

"Damn you." The curse came out as a sigh, and he cupped her head, bringing their lips together. The angle was non-ideal, straining for both of them, so she raised up on her tiptoes and parted her mouth for him. Still unsatisfied, he picked her up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You Midgardian women are peculiarly tiny," he said in the middle of their kiss, his fingers diving into hair and his opposite hand clutching her tightly at the small of her back. "How do you fetch items on high up shelves?"

"We charm tall gentleman in retrieving them for us," she replied, her lips never really leaving his. Her legs hiked up around his waist, and he growled hungrily.

"We haven't time," he hissed, separating from her and walking to the bed. He released his hold on her, and she fell gracelessly on the mattress, legs dangling off the edge.

"Do you actually care about the festival?"

Loki sank to his knees, and her jaw slackened in surprise. "King Alvid asked I escort his sister the entire evening."

Hermione rested her upper weight on her elbows and glared down at Loki who was bunching the heavy material of her dress to get at her legs. He groped them obscenely and pressed a tender smooch to her left inner knee. Her right leg came up, bending, her foot resting on his shoulder. He pursed his lips at her in question, and she shook her head saying, "No."

He nipped at her ankle. "You enjoyed it before."

"That's not what I'm talking about. I don't want you around _her_ , Loki."

His smirk was so delightfully pleased, she fantasized about kicking him in the stomach. "I have princely duties I must adhere to." He coerced her leg to drop and massaged her thighs. His eyes darkened at her exposed skin and rasped out, "It's been too long. I don't..." She watched his chest stutter and his Adam's apple bob. He swallowed and clenched the bunched material of her dress. She expected him to shove it up around her waist and finish what he started, but on the contrary, he tugged her dress down her legs, covering them.

"Well, I can't say I'm not disappointed," she said, confused. "Something wrong?"

"Come to my quarters tonight. I'll have you then. All of you and all night long."

Hermione relaxed, nodding. She flatted a hand on his stomach, rubbing him. "To forewarn you, Loki, I plan to stalk you this evening. If I catch Princess Aslaug kissing you again, I'll have no choice but to decline your invitation. I don't share."

He stilled her moving arm and used it to her pull her up and spin her so her back was against his front. She laughed throatily and melted into him, and he whispered into her ear, "The same goes for me, Hermione. I refuse to share this." He squeezed her bum. "This." He palmed her left breast, and she blushed. "And definitely not this." His wandering hand slithered downwards and stopped before she thought it would. Spreading his long, nimble fingers, he cupped her belly.

Her heart flew up in her throat, and she cleared it. "Is that so?" Her voice was barely audible. Was he...? Was he hinting that maybe he would...?

Yes, there was implication, and there was so much more to think about. She wasn't even sure if he was capable. Or for better words, _they_. They were two different species."

Jane and Thor were, as well, Hermione supposed. Apparently, however, Thor had everything a mortal, male Earthling did. Loki was a frost giant. He didn't look like one, but she saw his true form. Unless his glamour extended to his re-productivity, Hermione wasn't counting on a baby any time soon. Or at all. And even if they could, how would it impact her. She touched Loki in his icy, blue state. Lessening that cold by half and sticking it inside her would still kill her.

Loki would have to know this or be concerned about it, at least.

"Sweetie," she said gently, covering his hand with her own. "I'm thrilled you think so, but can we even have that? I've been doing some thinking-and don't think I dislike any part of you-I wonder about our genes."

"What do your ghastly Midgardian clothes have anything to do with-"

"Not _jeans_ like trousers. _Genes_ like a person's genetic makeup. How many chromosomes do you have? Not in all of your body, but I'm talking on a cellular structure-"

"Ah. You're speaking of biology. I understand now." Hermione placed his other hand on her stomach, and he kneaded the flesh over her dress. He kissed her temple and said, "I don't think the present to be an ideal time to reproduce."

"But can we eventually? That's what I'm asking. Is it possible? For real? Will our diverse genetics allow it?"

There was a pause and then Loki answered, "We are all scattered seeds from the branches of Yggdrasil."

"And?"

"Are you asking if our spawn would be blue?"

"I think I'm more concerned about it being cold."

"I can't foretell if it will be an abomination or not, Hermione," his said sharply.

Hermione turned to face him, looking up at him and her mouth pinched in a frown. "It wouldn't be...never mind." She rose up on her toes and pecked him on the lips. "We'll talk about this later. I'll see you at the festival, all right?"

Loki replied by kissing her, and then he was gone.

* * *

True to her word, Hermione kept a lookout for Loki and Princess Aslaug. As far as she could tell, they hadn't kissed and she felt confident enough to sneak up to his bedroom and knock on the door when no one but the palace guards were awake. Four of them resided on each side of the double doors, not paying her a second glance when they recognized her.

One of the doors opened, and she slid inside, shutting the barricade behind her and bolting it. Her eyes swept over the room, Loki nowhere to be found. The lights were on, though, and there was an open book at his desk. She checked the terrace, and he wasn't there, either.

The book on his desk made her brow arch. Loki must've been pilfering in her room because the book was one she authored several years ago. She flipped through the pages and saw he had written notes in the margin and just her luck, they weren't in any language she recognized. For all she knew, they could be doodles for how bored he was from the material.

Long, lean arms wrapped around her middle, and Loki rested his chin at the top of her head. "Snooping, are you?"

"It's my book. You stole it. Your thieving gives me full right to snoop." Pressing herself against him, she asked, "Do you like it?"

"No."

Hermione laughed.

"Is it really based off true events?"

"Mmmhmm."

"And they occurred centuries ago, correct?"

"Uh huh."

"Then I stand by my initial perception of Midgard. Your kind does not learn from their mistakes. Misconstrued thinking and mass murdering are still occurring. Your precious realm is no better now than it was in 1296 A.D. when your silly book took place."

Hermione lowered her gaze to the floor. "I can see why you'd think that."

"Freedom. It's a curse."

"Mmm."

"All right," he said, sighing, reaching down and closing the book. "I could go on about how much I dislike your realm and the reasons, but it would be a waste to your lovely ears. You may understand my views, but you'll never agree with them. I know an activity we both like and are rather good at when done together."

* * *

Well into the early parts of the morning, as the noises of music and laughter from the festival began to subside outside, Hermione woke up, her body aching and battered from Loki's attention. She groaned contently, relishing how good and bad she felt. Rolling over onto her side, she peeled one eye open and saw Loki awake and alert, staring at the ceiling. One of his arms was tucked underneath his head, and a troubled frown pinched his lips.

"What's the matter?" she asked, her voice raspy and her throat sore from sleep and screaming.

He moved his arm out from under his head and beckoned her closer. She shifted closer, molding her front to his side and resting her head on his shoulder.

"Nothing's bothering me, my pretty witch." His words tickled her forehead, and she laid her palm over his chest and loved and hated how right this felt.

It was then she made the decision not to go digging through her old journals anymore, and what she might've wanted in alternative to Loki didn't matter. She had him now. He was hers, and she wanted a future with him.

Tilting her head up slightly to look at him, she said, "I love you."

"When I'm not being an imbecile."

She shook her head no. "All the time. I love you so much, Loki. I do _want_ eternity with you."

His chest stuttered beneath his fingers, and a mixture of a chuckle and sigh shot out of his mouth. He rubbed his eyes and forehead with his free hand and said, "I see. Well, then. That certainly uncomplicates one of many issues we're currently facing."

Furrowing her brow at his distant words, she threw a leg around him, straddling him. "Don't you love me, too? Even a little bit?"

Beneath the covers, his splayed fingers rested on her naked hips and said, "Spend the day with me tomorrow."

"Loki," she admonished.

"I originally planned to project an image of myself for Princess Aslaug to jaunt about with while I took care of far more interesting matters." His naughty fingertips skimmed her ribs and the dip of Hermione's waist. "Now, I have no desire to string her along. The more I'm around her, the more she wants me." He grinned that horrid grin of his. "Not that I blame her."

"Do whatever you want tomorrow. I'm going to be taking care of Daphne. Jane needs to work, and the caretaker's great-grandmother passed away. Until she comes back, I'll be caring for Daphne full time."

"Who?"

"Not this again," Hermione muttered. Despite she and Loki not spending a great deal of time with each other the past five weeks, whenever they were in each other's presence with Thor and Jane and one of them mentioned their daughter by name, Loki would feign not knowing who they were speaking of.

"You think it's funny."

She maneuvered off him and reached to light the lamp on her bedside table. "I'm asphyxiating with laughter."

"You might as well. Tomorrow you'll have very little reason to be jovial. You'll be tending to an infant, and they do little aside from sleep and eat."

Hermione fingered the pins in her hair that Loki's ministrations missed earlier and began to remove them. "Since you're so concerned of my attention span not being occupied by a fair partner, why don't you join your niece and I. I think I'm right in assuming you have yet to properly meet her."

"Meet who?"

"You can't pretend she doesn't exist forever. She'll be your queen someday," Hermione reminded haughtily, smirking at his irate face.

"I plan to die before then."

"Oh, is that right? What are you going to do? Command your heart stop beating the day before her coronation? You're so dramatic."

"This conversation is making me ill." His jaw tightened, and he switched looking at her in favor of the far corner.

Unperturbed, Hermione carried on, "I imagine so. It's hard to think that far ahead. And to think I'll be alive to see it. I feel like I should be happy for it. I'll get to see Daphne's great moments. But...I can't say I've accepted yet what you've done to me."

"You'll have many years to get around to it, I assure you." His sigh was heavy and complex. "And what makes you ill about the future differs for me. I'm not terribly thrilled my brother's...whatever you call it...will one day rule Asgard."

"Daphne," Hermione clipped. "Say her name. It's not going to bite you, I promise."

"I suspect by then he and Jane will have a son. He'll rule of course. Naturally." He laughed. "Their she-babe won't have a shot at being queen unless she plucks up the eldest of King Alvid's bastards. Even then, she won't rule Asgard."

"Not that it's any of our business, but Daphne will be the first and last."

Loki stickily tore his gaze from the corner and stared at her patronizingly. "Thor will have his son, Hermione."

Hermione combed through her tangles with hooked fingers, foretelling a stormy argument. She should redirect the traffic from the danger zone, but it was too delicious to pass up. Bickering over non-important things was what they did best.

"He's so entranced with Daphne. He's so good with her, too. She's got him wrapped around her pinky. He wasn't disappointed when he came home from Jotunheim to find her in Jane's arms rather than a boy."

Loki chuckled. "I forget the mistreatment of your sex Midgard is responsible for, and I thought you would've caught on by now Asgard isn't quite like that. Is there equality between men and women? Don't be ridiculous. Men will always be superior, but women are not disappointments. They are, indeed, treasures where men are legacy. And surprisingly that doesn't mean men will be treated better. As you pointed out, Thor is over the stars for the child. He could very well not spread the same sentiment to a son if he so felt. Sure, the boy would get the kingdom, but she'd have her father's undivided attention always."

"It would be arguably worth more," Hermione added belatedly. "I'm spoiled, I guess. I'm an only child, and all my parents assets will go to me when they pass. I had all the attention and love I could ask for from them and others. Jane was in the same boat. As far as we could tell, our parents were never unhappy with us being girls."

"And why would they be? Girls aren't anything to be upset about. That's what I'm saying."

"I wasn't arguing with you." And she really wasn't. Damn. The dispute she thought was going to happen was rapidly dispersing. "But would you be all right if...if we had a daughter when the time was right? There's this silly thing in my family. More than a hundred years ago, my great-great-great-great-great grandfather got himself into a spot of trouble with a witch."

Loki quirked his lips. "Go on."

"My family. Jane and even my parents laugh at the story because it's peculiar. He was a wealthy man with a status and a title and recently married. He was also...not a very good man. He was't known for kindness, especially towards women. One night he took to a local pub and set his sights on a young lady who was passing through. The story goes was that he cornered and attempted to _defile_ her, and she cursed him. And not just him, but his entire legacy. He never begat a son, not even with his many mistresses. Those daughters, they never had boys. So on and so forth. Because of the era he lived in, the family fortune was lost. No male heir to inherit and all that."

Her lover's eyes slit, his blue-green eyes sparkling with interest. "And there's truth in this?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. The evidence _is_ damning and even though I'm a witch, I'm not the suspicious type. But my family on my mum's side is made up of a lot of women, so would you be all right _when_ we add another member to this party we're having, if we have a girl? Would you be mad over her like Thor is with Daphne and be content with just her?"

Massaging his eyes and then forehead, Loki murmured, "I'd rather not discuss children right now, Hermione."

"It needs to be done, Loki. You indicated earlier it could one day happen."

"Exactly and it's not happening today."

"I know, but it's best to prepare for it. Ron and I-" Loki interrupted with a befuddled frown and she reiterated, "My ex-husband and I discussed children before we were even engaged. We talked about it, up until we were ready to try for our own. I _don't_ want to do what Jane and Thor did and have it just happen."

"Oh, but you gave the impression you knew better," he commented wryly.

" _However_ Daphne happened, it does not change how completely unprepared they both were to take her on. Not only as parents but as a couple..."

An expression of surprise contorted Loki's face, and he sat up abruptly. He bent his knees and rested his arms over them and said to her, "You may be right, Hermione. We can't catch ourselves being unprepared. Ah, but wait. You see, I agree with what you're saying. I agree so much in fact, that I want to point out how swimmingly grand we are as partners. It's bond is so solid, for certain it could withstand the weight and responsibility of a child. Furthermore, not only is it solid, our partnership is nothing out of the norm. There's nothing wrong with it. We're fine with our relationship starting as an extramarital affair-"

"It wasn't like that."

"Or that I tricked you into immortality. Let us not forget those months in between the wedding and Jotunheim. Twice, we saw each other. Then these past weeks where we've been so communicative with each other. Hermione," he said, amused, "though our intentions and feelings are held in high regard to one another, we are little more than lovers. You're not even my consort because we are in secret."

Hermione swallowed and looked away, afraid of what he could be implying. Was he suggesting they go public?

 _You'll have to eventually if you really do want a future with him, stupid!_ she barked at herself.

"I..." It boiled down to Jane. Her parents, too, she supposed, and Hermione feared telling the latter more. She decided that moment Mum and Dad would never know about Loki. One day she may introduce them to him, but he'd wear a guise and address himself as Lucas or something.

"Picturing your dear cousin's face?" quipped Loki.

"I-I hadn't realized you were interested in coming forward. I thought you a fan of clandestine."

"I do find us enticing in our hidden state, but I'll tire of it. Soon. Vanaheim's royalty will ensure it. It pains me to say this, but Thor's done well in keeping his mouth shut on the real reason why I'm digging my heals into the ground concerning Princess Aslaug. King Alvid's impatience will dissolve, and he'll throw a tantrum on his sister's behalf. When that happens, I'll have to confess the scandalous truth. The queen's cousin and I eloped; therefore, I'm a married man and the old ways of bigamy are indeed over. I can't have you _and_ Princess Aslaug. The late queen would tear a hole through Valhalla and rain terror upon us all."

Hermione closed her eyes and slowly opened them. "Eloped?"

He caressed her jawline and thumbed her lips, and his tone turned serious. "I do not wish for you to underestimate nor overestimate anything, Hermione. You know well enough and probably too much of my thoughts on you. I'll not parade you around Asgard like Thor did with Jane upon her arrival and their engagement. For one, it's unnecessary. For two, the mocking will be nonexistent once we're married. I know it was not so for Jane, but I'm not like Thor. I'm not blind or deaf, and the people of Asgard know this. They also know I'm as resolute as Odin and nowhere near as forgiving as my brother. Anyone who spoke out of turn against you would face severe punishment."

"My God, you're talking about marriage." Hermione shied away from his touch and fell into a stupor, cupping her ribs. Her heart pounded beneath her fingers. She exhaled a slow breath through pursed lips and nodded. "Oh, dear. Sorry, I just...am shocked, and I guess I really shouldn't be."

"You barely said you wanted a future with me. No, you really shouldn't be as alarmed as you're acting." Loki pulled her hair back over her shoulder and leaned forward to kiss her neck.

Hermione chuckled weakly. "You're wanting to do it all the old fashioned way, aren't you? Courting, marriage, and then a family." She laughed again, this one stronger and almost maniacal.

"It pains me to say, but my rebellion must be put to rest. Despite my title, my fellow council members constantly challenge me. They're very good at throwing my past in my face as if I was not their king once."

"I hate to say it, Loki, but marrying me isn't going to change that. If anything, it'll worsen you in their eyes."

"We continue on as we do without matrimony, I'd be more of a mockery than before. It would all come to light at an ill time most likely, and mistresses and bastards of royals aren't meant for broadcasting. I'll not be made a fool of because you're naive and refuse to acknowledge what it means to share a future with me. You may have generously or stupidly forgiven my misdeeds against your world. Maybe you haven't and chose to put it behind you. But, Hermione, there is so much more than dealing with my failures. A future with me includes a life not entirely different than your cousin's, and she'd cut out her tongue before she'd admit to being unhappy but she is. On top of that, I know you're not entirely pleased to be here either, and I heard through the grapevine how delighted you were at the news of visiting New York after the new year. All of this inclines me to ask when you said you want us to have a future, what exactly did you have in mind? I only ask because I don't believe you know what you're getting yourself into."

Regarding Loki stoically, Hermione mulled over his speech, lice-combing it and finding it overwhelming and lacking at the same time. She pinched the bridge of her nose and said, "You may be right, but...I do feel it's _you_ who didn't know what you were getting into when you tricked me."

The air was tense between them, and neither of them spoke for a while until Hermione chose to leave his room, knowing she wouldn't rest for the remaining night if she was to stay in Loki's room. She wasn't angry with him, and she didn't leave thinking he was upset with her. Many important points were said by each of them, and they needed time to digest.

* * *

It didn't occur to Hermione until the following afternoon while she lazily picnicked in the garden with Daphne that Loki proposed to her in his own obnoxious, pretentious way. When she and Loki managed to spare an hour post lunch two days before the week ended, she brought it up to him as eloquently as she could muster.

"You want to elope?" she inquired, wincing apologetically at the large, yet feeble steed in front of her. Hermione dug the brush too firmly into the aged mare's side, and she neighed indigently. Hermione had been willfully tending to the a couple of the retired war horses in the stables to pass the day, growing tired of long strolls in the garden and being cooped up in the library deciphering Jane's notes with her ancient Scandinavian manuscript of runes. Loki approached her in the stables, chattier than he'd been since their frank discussions earlier that week.

"Right now? How deliciously tempting" His face split in half, and his brows jumped to his hairline.

Snorting, she toyed with Grani's mane. "No," she said, smiling. "Where would we go to do it if we planned to, though? Do you know someone who could sanction it without stirring trouble?"

"Not here, no. It'd be best to do it in Midgard."

"Would a ceremony done on Earth hold true to Asgard law? I don't think the council nor Thor would accept civil exchanging of vows done in a church or on in a city hall office."

"A piece of paper with Midgardian words would mean nothing, you're right. There are a few select places in your realm we could visit where our marriage could be sanctioned."

Hermione hummed, circling Grani to brush her other side. "You can't go back to Midgard, Loki. You know that."

"I've done it twice before," he reminded arrogantly.

"Exactly. It was stupid. You got away with it because you weren't spotted. Getting married requires people to see you. You'll be recognized and chaos will erupt. It's too risky. We'll be caught, and Thor will be in trouble. So will I."

"The problems you speak of are valid but meaningless to creatures like us." He came up behind her and covered her brushing hand with his own. He kissed her temple and said, "We have magic. We're unstoppable, you and I. With our tricks, we can do what we need to without a fuss."

"Oh, really?" She chuckled harshly. "You may think you don't have to play by the rules, but I do."

He laughed throatily and kissed her temple again, lingeringly. "Do be gentle with Grani, my dear. I fear she won't be with us much longer. No less than half a century left, I'm sure of it."

Loki left her, and she continued tending to Grani and then to Gisl. Afterwards, she wandered to the neighboring stable, greeting the younger horses. She petted Jane's and crooned gently to the smartly polished snow-white steed.

"I'm sorry _her highness_ doesn't come out and see you much," she said to Sintopp. "Jane's deathly allergic to horses."

"How odd, yes?"

Hermione snapped her head towards the entrance of the stable and saw King Alvid standing tall, his chin up and hands linked behind his back. He smiled at her, his teeth perfectly white and straight and his features perfectly handsome. His eyes, though, were cold and knowing, narrowed at her like he believed her a threat.

"King Alvid," she greeted calmly, dipping her chin at him and then putting her eyes on the ground out of respect, "May I help you?"

King Alvid quirked his lips, and he walked towards her, shocking her by grabbing her chin and roughly jerking her head up, so she could look at his face. "You're the reason why the Prince of Asgard won't commit to Aslaug?"

His fingers were bruising her jaw, and she tried to tug at his wrists, but he laughed and yanked her close to him, walking them to stable wall and pressing his larger, muscular form against her. His fingers dropped to her throat, squeezing tightly. His nose dug into her cheek and he hissed, "You were supposed to leave after the wedding and never come back! You were supposed to be a dalliance of Loki's and never be thought of heard from again, but you returned and mucked up everything like a self-righteous whore!" He slammed her skull into the wall behind her, and the pain mixed with her lungs needing air nearly knocked her out.

"I've had my eye on you for quite some time, _Lady Hermione_. My spies have spotted you making the prince's bedroom door a revolving one. Going in and out as you please. I had hoped these past few weeks when you two severed communication, but I was foolish to think it'd last. He's fond of you." His tone was that of disgust, and she tried to reach for her wand in her pouch, but he was too quick and forced her arm to wall. "How displeasing and at first I had a plan. You'd sever all ties with Prince Loki, or I'd kill your cousin. There's too much that could go wrong, and I wasn't going to risk it. The only way I can have what I want is to get rid of you."

Hermione tried to shake her head. She tried to gasp out a no and tears blurred her vision when seeing King Alvid unsheathe his dagger harnessed low at his waist. Sharp, ungodly agony ripped from the top of her belly button and above to the middle of her ribs. Before blackness consumed her, the taste of copper flooded her tongue.

To be Continued...

* * *

A/N: Hey, y'all! I apologize for the hiatus on this thing, but holy cow did this chapter kill me. I rewrote it, like, ten times. It was a nightmare. I couldn't get it just the way I wanted it to. Plus, I was having plot bunnies attacking me on the side, wanting to shove their way into the story, and I was all, like, no! Stay away! There's no room for your furry drama. And they were like, "Bitch, please," with their pink, twitchy noses and started copulating all over the place.

To give away a bit of what may be coming. Initially, I stood by my plan to never introduce Hermione to the Avengers. I've retracted that, and she will meet some of them. However, I am firm in saying she will not join them. Hermione will have her own story, and she'll be much too busy to be dilly-dallying with them. Plus, it would be hugely against the International Statute of Secrecy. The Avengers aren't known for being subtle. ;)

*Sigh*

I also apologize for any errors in this chapter. I'll do another round of clean-sweeping soon, but this is it for now. Please R&R.

Thank you.

J-J


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** So this will be the last chapter that will take place during the wedding of Jane and Thor. There will be another flashback chapter down the road (which was supposed to come sooner than later, but I changed my mind) and it will have almost nothing to do with the Marvel Universe and everything to do with Hermione and what lead up to hers and Ron's separation. I wanted to wait until it was relevant and eventually it will be. Hermione's going to find herself in a state where she'll have to reflect on certain memories to go forward. She's going to hit a fork in the road, and I refuse to explain further. Mustn't give it all away now. ;)

Thank you so much, readers and reviewers! I'm loving this story, and I hope you guys do, as well. Please review and tell me your thoughts. I love hearing about them! Thanks so much and enjoy!

* * *

 **March 2014**

Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, Hermione refrained from wincing at how much her muscles—especially her legs and hips—smarted. Her back ached, as well, and she gulped at her hard tea, hoping the alcohol would dull the physical consequences of her indiscretions. Since the night of Jane's wedding, Hermione had allowed Loki into her life during the day and at night, and he ravaged her like a wild animal each time.

God, she hated him.

Where was he?

She hadn't seen him yet for the day. The last few days, he'd made himself known before lunch. He'd whisk her off to a corner, whisper something shamefully exquisite into ear, they'd bicker, sneak a kiss, and separate like nothing happened.

"So what did you need to tell me?" Jane asked, spreading a thick layer of spiced cheese spread on a slice of bread and then drizzling honey over it. She bit into it and moaned. "Oh, my God, it needs peanut butter." She swallowed and nodded. "And a pickle."

Hermione ignored Jane's comments on her pregnancy cravings and said, "I'm getting divorced."

Jane paused mid-bite, leaving teeth marks on her slice of bread. "So…you're not going to try and work things out with Ron."

Chuckling bitterly, Hermione replied, "We've been trying for the last two years, and I guess he's tired. I can't blame him. It's been rough. He sent me divorce papers not too long before you returned to London."

"Hermione." Jane sighed sympathetically and set down her lunch, wiping her fingers on her napkin. "I'm so, _so_ sorry. If there's something I can do to make you feel better or happier, let me know."

"Thank you." Hermione drained the last of her tea and contemplated one of the two pitchers between her and Jane. One was water and the other the hard, sparkling tea. No, she couldn't have another. It was only noon, and she was already starting to feel tipsy.

"Do you think he's seeing someone?" her cousin asked, cautious.

"It's strange, but I think I'd prefer if he was." She'd feel better about her own sins if she wasn't the only one committing them. "Have a substantial reason to throw in the towel rather than…not, I guess. And we're separated." Hermione caved and poured more tea into her glass. "If he decided to make a lady friend, I wouldn't fault him for it."

"And if you were to have a _close_ guy friend, would Ron fault you for it?"

"I'd fault myself," Hermione clipped truthfully. "We're still legally married by matrimony and God. On top of that, divorce is a _sin_. I will no longer be able to have communion, and my mum will have a seizure."

"Those things don't matter to you," Jane gently said, shirking one shoulder. "Not like they did when we were kids."

"But they matter to my mother, and she accepted when Ron and I separated because she believed I wouldn't go through with a divorce. Growing up, I followed the rules. I didn't do foolish things like other girls had done. I didn't get pregnant, party, or experiment with drugs. I went to church when Mum told to me, too. I was a good girl and always wore my promise ring. I waited until marriage to give myself to my husband. Going through this divorce will be very hard on her."

"Hey, if anyone's the black sheep of the family." Jane gestured to her stomach, and Hermione quirked her lips in amusement.

"I don't think a shotgun wedding will darken you're fleece, Jane. Marrying a pagan god, however, there's no rubbing off that mark. Sorry. Great Aunt Agda will spit on you at the next family reunion. Bringing Thor along will definitely keep the attention off me. I'll be a saint compared to you."

"So nothing's changed then. Good to know." There was a slight edge in Jane's voice, and Hermione watched her cousin busy herself with her partially eaten slice of bread.

"I was joking, and I'm far from a saint. We both know I'm not the nicest person in the world. Like when people say and do ridiculous things…" Hermione chuckled set down her glass to butter her slice of bread, "I'm not afraid to humble them. Even if it's Grandma and Grandpa."

"They really like didn't like that, huh?"

"No, they didn't which is why you're inheriting the wine collection, and I get Nahni and her lot when Grandpa passes."

"There is more nutritional value in goats than wine," Jane offered rather unhelpfully. She shook her head, chuckling. "I can't believe Nahni outlived Grandma."

"And since she's in Grandpa's will, he suspects she'll bury him." Hermione scowled at her bread. "What in the hell would I do with a goat anyway?"

"I thought you loved Nahni."

"From afar, I'm quite taken with her, yes."

Jane lounged back in her chair, her hands smoothing over her abdomen. "Goat milk is good for kids when it's time to ween them off the bottle. I read that somewhere."

"Great. We'll switch when the old fart dies. You get Nahni and her kids. I plan marinate for the rest of ever."

Her cousin laughed, and they continued to prattle on about nothing for the rest of lunch. Afterwards, Jane tempted the idea of taking a nap but decided in returning to her work of ricocheting from the library to the observatory. Hermione joined in her, helping her cousin with sorting notes and idea-bouncing for a few hours. Jane then retired for the remaining day when Thor sought her out to do what newlyweds are great at doing, leaving Hermione to wander around by herself.

Taking her time, she circled the palace and paused when taking notice of the stables. Glancing down at herself, Hermione fled back into the palace and into her room, pillaging through her armoire and belongings to find something suitable to wear for horseback riding.

Settling on a pair of black leggings, her lace-up boots, black pullover sweater, and a woolen grey wrap that fell to mid-thigh; she returned to the stables and invited herself inside and blinking in surprise when first seeing the largest black horse she'd ever seen. It neighed in alarm when noticing her but soon calmed, and Hermione's eyes were drawn to the creature's legs.

There were eight of them.

"I can't believe it," she whispered to herself, timidly approaching the horse. "You're Slepnir, aren't you?"

The horse made no sudden movements as she approached his stall. A careful palm at the ready, she touched his muzzle and then slowly began to rub.

"You're a beauty," Hermione commented, taking the time to study Slepnir's smartly trimmed and combed mane and tail, and his clean and finely brushed coat. The horse preened under her attention, encouraging her ministrations with excited whinnies and prancing hooves.

Soon a stable boy entered, guiding a more normal-sized white horse inside by the reigns. The young man blinked at her, mildly surprised to see her and asked, "Lady Hermione, may I help you with something?"

"Uh, yes. I think I'd like to go riding if that's okay."

"Of course, my lady." He bowed his head. "I'll prepare a horse right away."

"That won't be necessary, Eindride."

Hermione jerked her head in the direction of the corner that'd been empty three seconds ago. Loki stepped out of the shadows, his attire more geared for horse riding than gliding through the corridors of the palace.

Eindride bowed, "Your highness?"

"You have Sintopp all ready to go. You needn't prepare another."

"Sintopp belongs to the queen, your highness."

"Lady Hermione is the queen's cousin, not some unknown peasant from Hel." Lok stalked towards Eindride and Sintopp, taking the reins from the boy. "I assume you were merely returning her to her stall after a gentle gander in the pasture. You were not riding her."

Eindride flushed and shook his head violently. "No, your highness, and yes. I only took her for a walk for a bit of exercise."

"Mmm." Loki curtly dipped his chin at the boy. "Well, carry on with your remaining duties, Eindride. Lady Hermione will be taking Sintopp out for a more exhilarating spin, no doubt."

"Yes, your highness," Eindride replied and scurried to the other end of the stable to get himself as far away from the lunatic that was the Prince of Asgard as possible. Smart lad, that one.

Hermione stayed where she was, by Slepnir's stall and rubbing his muzzle. She pursed her lips while Loki smirked at her and shuffled closer to her, Sintopp behind him.

"Go on and saddle yourself, Lady Hermione," Loki said, ticking his head at the horse. "I'll get mine ready."

"We haven't seen each other all day and when I decide to do something interesting, you show up and ruin it," she grumbled.

Loki's simper turned icy. "That's not true. I saw you plenty today."

"You were stalking me, then?"

"Quite," he confessed, unshaken. "I hypothesized you acted different when I'm not around. My conclusion was not disappointing. Your edges are still relatively rough, but you are not horrible."

"Horrible?" Hermione laughed sharply. "My, my, my. You have a fascinating way of warming a girl's heart."

"Oh, come off it. I didn't follow you around the entire day. You may not be horrible in the horrific sense, but you certainly entertain yourself with horribly boring activities like lunch with your cousin and wasting time time in a library with books you can't read."

Hermione dug out a pair of gloves from the pockets of her wrap and forced them on her hands. "I may be boring, Loki, but at least I don't get bored easily. To the point of following my…whatever you are…around. There are a million fascinating things in Asgard and just about all of them rank above you. I do kind of feel bad about that since I'm clearly your number one."

Loki didn't reply, offering her the Sintopp's reins. Hermione took them and tickled the horse beneath her chin, saying to Loki, "I'm afraid Jane won't be seeing much of Sintopp. She's allergic."

"You Midgardians are so fragile, it's a miracle there are so many of you," commented Loki.

Grabbing the horn of the saddle and foot in the stirrup, she hoisted herself up on Sintopp and situated herself comfortably. "I assume Slepnir belongs to you."

Arching his brow in revelation, he said, "I wasn't aware you were on a first name basis with Odin's horse."

"It was yours first, wasn't it? You…well, I'm not entirely sure what you did to get him, but he was originally yours. According to myth, anyway. You gave him to your father as a gift or something."

Loki's gaze was steady and unreadable on her. "I will be riding Falhófnir. Slepnir is strictly a war horse."

Hermione blinked at him, cocking her head to the side pensively. "I see," she said slowly, her focus wandering to the open stable doors. "Well, I'm ready to go. If you want to join me, I suggest you hurry."

Several minutes later, she and Loki were leisurely riding their horses through the pastures and then breached the neighboring forestry. When they were all but out of sight from the groundskeepers and palace workers, Hermione relaxed, an audible sigh coming out of her mouth. She tugged on the reins and coerced Sintopp into circling around, so they were aligned opposite of Loki, Hermione's shoulders nearly brushing his.

"You wish to go back already?" he asked, bemused.

Shaking her head, she leaned forward and kissed him. Her heart fluttered, but she ignored it, summing the sensation up to the kiss rather than to search for underlying meaning of it. Kissing men was quite fun and didn't have to mean anything.

A part of her knew she was getting herself into trouble. With every kiss. With every moment they spent together, alone or otherwise.

The kiss grew passionate, and Hermione allowed one of her hands to release the reins on Sintopp to cup the side of Loki's face. To be plain, they snogged like teenagers until Loki pulled away, flustered, saying, "How cruel of you to start something in such an inconvenient state to finish."

"Not every kiss has to end in the bunching of bedsheets or _dry-humping_ against the bookshelf." Before he could get another word in, she lunged for his lips again, enjoying is exasperated moan of delight. Her lips nipped at his, and he rewarded her by plucking the hair-comb keeping her loose curls partially up and running his longer fingers through them, leveraging them to tilt her head as a way of gaining better access to her mouth.

Completely abandoning the reins, she clung to him and lost herself in the feeling of him until her lungs screamed for air. She parted from him, inhaling long and slow, her forehead resting against his and their noses touching.

"You were saying." His tone was so dirty and grumbly low, she imagined having her way with him on the threshold of the forest.

"We should keep riding." Hermione coaxed Sintopp to turn around and trot further into the thicket of trees, her gloved fingers brushing her tingling and tender, swollen lips.

"Did you learn to ride in your youth?" Loki questioned, catching up to her and Sintopp. His cheeks were pinkish, but other than that, no one would know he'd been snogged senseless.

"I did have a few lessons when I was little but nothing special. I had private lessons in my early twenties for my work."

"What kind of employment requires a witch to know the ways of horseback riding?"

"And why does a prince who can magic himself anywhere?"

"I wasn't always able," he informed and then frowned. "Did you deflect?"

"No. Back then I was a nanny, and the child I cared for was receiving lessons. To better cater to her, I also had lessons."

"Mmm," Loki acknowledged. "You're lying."

"I'm not," she lied. "Even if I was, it doesn't really matter where or why I learned horseback riding. And those lessons are barely keeping me together now. I haven't been on a horse in a long time. I probably look ridiculous bouncing around like a fool. I certainly feel like one."

"You're very good at deflecting, but you forget who you're with. Never mind. You don't have to tell me, and I'm not dying to know. But," he ducked under a low hanging branch, "I think I'd like for us to get to know each other better. Outside of the bedroom. As intriguing as you are writhing beneath me and occasionally above, I can't help but think I'm rudely ignoring the elephant in the room. Your magic. I have yet to see much of your talents, Lady Hermione."

Hermione laughed airily. "The same could be said about you, _Prince Loki_."

"Then we should plan for the entire day tomorrow. Persuade Jane to spend the entire day with Thor, and I'll do the same with him. It will keep them occupied with each other rather than us."

"It shouldn't be hard. They are on their honeymoon. If you can call it that. But what about your father? Can you really avoid him the whole day?"

"Since I'm not planning for us to be locked up in one of rooms in the palace, it should be fairly easy to avoid Odin."

"And where do you plan on taking me?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"It's a surprise."

"Will I get hurt?"

"Only if you're careless."

"Never," she quipped and I then nudged her head. "Do you want to race?"

He chuckled. "I thought you weren't careless."

"Oh, come on. It's a bit of fun." Bumping her heels against Sintopp's side, the horse quickened her pace, and Hermione couldn't help but smile as they charged through the trees.

Hermione didn't win. Sintopp was bred and trained for decoration and not much more whereas Falhófnir was the steed Loki most likely honed for recreation and trained as a replacement for a war horse.

Taking pity on a knackered Sintopp, Hermione slid off her back and walked the horse back to the stables, and Loki did the same with Falhófnir. Every few minutes, Loki would ask if they could stop to rest up against that tree or large rock when Hermione knew he really wanted to kiss her again. She contemplated his offers, but the evening was drawing near, and it was soon time to have dinner at the palace. She'd have to wash up first, as well. Riding at a neck-break speed tousled her hair and made her skin and teeth feel gritty.

They retired to the palace, both going their separate ways to wash up and mutely greeting each other at dinner from opposite sides of the table. Following dinner, Hermione told Jane she wished for her to spend the next day with her husband.

"You're on your honeymoon. Why are you hanging out with me?"

"He's constantly having meetings with the council," Jane griped.

"Persuade him he has better things to do. I can fend for myself tomorrow, and I want you to be happy. I can't make you happy like he can, all right?"

Hermione retired to her room, expecting Loki to seek her out for the night. Hours into the night, he finally showed up, slithering into her bed to lay claim to her drowsy self. When she woke up again, this time more alert and more naked, her nightdress a crumpled heap on the floor, the light of dawn barely showing through the curtains. What had stirred her was Loki whispering filthiness into her ear.

"I'm not in the mood," she mumbled, flipping onto her front beneath the covers to get comfortably away from him as to sleep a while longer. Unbothered, he tugged at the sheet to expose her back to the cool morning air. His lips pressed to the base of her spine, and she buried her sleepy flushed face into her pillow, muttering how much she hated him. He placed damp, warm kisses up her spine, moving her hair out of the way so he could reach her neck.

"Mm. Delightful." His tone dripped with lewdness. "My midnight snack wasn't enough. I simply must have you for breakfast."

"You're such a pervert."

He chuckled low and gravelly in his throat and whispered two positions he wanted her to be in. She could choose which one she preferred.

"Later." She rolled on to her back, her body rigid, and glared at Loki's disappointed face and said, "Weren't we going to do something today?"

"I had planned for it, but now I'm not so sure."

"You're being petulant. How surprising. Fine. I won't show you any of my magic then."

Loki climbed out of bed and summoned his discarded clothes, pulling them on. "Be ready in a half-hour."

"Find me in the kitchen."

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure where Loki planned to take her, but she was confident they wouldn't have an audience. She chose to don clothes like the afternoon before, tiring of the heavy, bejeweled dresses. She fashioned her hair into a braid, and shoved her feet into a pair of boots and left the room. Two guards stood on each side of her double doors, their eyes closed. When she shut one of the doors, their eyes flew open, and she put a finger to her lips.

"I"m going to the kitchen," she said.

The guards followed her to the kitchen and stood outside the door. She darted into the pantries, pilfering apples, cheeses, and bread for her day out with Loki. When he appeared, she explained to him that there were guards outside, and she should let them know she was leaving in case they sounded an alarm when they couldn't find her.

"If you insist," he said and grabbed her hand, dragging her out of the kitchen to face the guards. "Thank you, guards. I'll handle her from here."

"Where are we going exactly?" she asked. He wrapped his arms around her, and the palace hallways were replaced by damp, cold air and the sound of water lapping against rocks. They stood in a dark green meadow at the base of a tall, snow-capped mountain and several feet away from a brook. She looked up at the sky and the neighboring planets and the moons were displaced.

"We're on the other side," Loki said.

"The other side," Hermione repeated, eyes glued to one of the most magnificent geological structures she'd ever seen. "You mean the bottom side?" The mountain was breathtaking. She smiled at it wondrously and sprinted towards an incline, her legs hitting the brush of the meadow.

"Where are you going?" Loki called after her.

"Let's go hiking!" She meant to carve her own pathway on the seemingly untouched landmass when Loki popped in front of her, ruining her fun with a bemused frown.

"Show me your magic," he said.

Hermione turned around, sweeping her gaze over her surroundings again. In the far off distance, she saw the brook taper off into a mass of shrubbery. On the sides of the brook, beautiful flowers of a genus she'd never seen littered the soft, grassy ground. She considered pulling her wand out for the demonstration, but it she wasn't planning anything grand or straining.

Outstretching her arm at the flowers, thousands of petals detached and clumped together and then swarmed towards them, spiraling around them. Loki stared at her blankly and asked, "Is this the best you can do?"

The petals fell to the ground, some of them landing in their hair and on their clothes. "What did you have in mind?"

Loki pinched a petal that had landed on her shoulders, rubbing it until it was tatters and lavender-pink stained the pads of his fingers.

"You know your power, Hermione. Amaze me."

Hermione backpedaled off the mountain, returning to the meadow. "When did you know you could do magic?" she asked.

"That's not really how it works here," he replied, following her.

"Oh." She tossed an intrigued expression over her shoulder. "Well, I was young. About seven, close to eight when I had my first incident."

"Your magic is an incident? How odd."

"That's not what I meant." She headed towards the thicket of trees, paying no mind to the branches poking at her as she attempted to get to the other side. Where did the brook lead to? She wanted to know. "Those like me are pretty much non-magical up until a certain age. I was normal…until I wasn't."

Hermione bent down and picked up a series of sticks, never actually stopping. When she came out the other side, she was faced with a fjord and a rickety dock. Walking to the end of it, she dropped the sticks onto the water and ignored Loki's questioning expression while she magicked the bits of drifting wood to fuse together. With gentle, articulate waves of her wand, the sticks of wood transifigured into a small byrding boat.

Hermione swung her leg over and into the boat, tossing a look at Loki. "Let's go for a boat ride. It's a nice day."

"Impressive, I suppose," he said, joining her in the boat. Hermione maneuvered the sail to catch wind and sat down with a sigh.

"I was on the waters of Kos when I found out I could do magic," she said as Loki sat down across from her. "That's in Greece. I was reading a book my grandmother gave me earlier that day. I was on a speed boat with my parents, so I easily lost my grip on it. It flew into the water, and I made it come back to me. What about you, Loki? I want to know about your magic. When did you know you could do it?"

"Not at _seven_ ," Loki remarked, incredulous.

"I imagine you were still in nappies at seven."

Wrinkling his nose at her, he said, "I was a child and always knew I was capable of magic. We all are here in Asgard, but those more so than others. The ones who aren't able to tap into that side of themselves, stop trying after a while. My mother taught me from a very young age. Did your parents help you at all?"

"My parents don't have magic."

"Your kind inherits. I know that to be true," he said, reminding her of their encounter in the library her first day in Asgard. "One of them must have it. I'm assuming your father, given how ordinary Jane is."

Hermione shot him a warning look. "You're both right and wrong. It's possible for magical offspring to be born of non-magical parents."

"That's impossible. You can't just have magic when all your ancestors before you hadn't a drop."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Believe it or not, I'm not a novelty. There are more out there like me."

"Oh, I doubt that."

Hermione arched a brow. "Are you flirting with me, Loki? Aren't we passed that?"

He grinned at her which faltered slightly, his focus falling from her face to fall on her folded arms. "I noticed something during the night that I chose to not comment on this morning when we were in bed together. The scar on your forearm. You conceal it with magic. You concealed it again before we left. You keep it covered meaning you're ashamed of it."

Furrowing her brow at him, she stared at him carefully. "I'm not ashamed of it," she said after a few moments. "It's just not a great conversation starter, so I keep it covered."

"Mudblood." He tested the word on his tongue and then bared his teeth in an unpleasant snarl. "It's not a clever insult if it is one. What does it mean? Is it a synonym for whore in your culture? Though I doubt it. A title like that would be wasted on you. If one were to carve an insult on another, it'd be more damaging to hit the target." He scratched at his chin. "Are you a Mudblood, Hermione?"

The boat rocked, and the wind picked up, blowing loosened strands over her face. She tucked them behind her ear and squinted at Loki, the sun finally peaking over the horizon and further brightening their surroundings.

"Yes," she said.

"And what does that entail?"

"That it's impossible for me not to have magical parents. I'm an abomination, Loki."

He pursed his lips at her, a finger pensively resting over his lip. He then said, scoffing, "That's silly."

Hermione's mouth twitched. "I thought so, too."

He scooted closer to her and showed his hand. "May I?"

She didn't budge.

"I've seen you naked. You need not be shy."

"Not this naked."

For a fleeting moment, his features softened, but it was so quick, Hermione thought very little of it.

"Let me see."

Exhaling in exasperation, unfolded her arms and rolled up her left sleeve and displayed the unblemished skin of her forearm.

"Remove the glamour," he ordered and she complied, smoothing her fingers from the veins of her wrist to the crease of her elbow, leaving angry and jagged letters in their wake. The pad of his thumb traced the letters, the scars still pink and wretched as they had been seventeen years ago. He examined each letter with studious precision and the varying degrees of the raised skin, she started to flush from embarrassment. Ron had never spent this much time staring at her scars. She had never let him.

Hermione attempted to steal back her arm, but his hold was solid. He shot her an admonishing glance, and she said, "I have other scars, you know," as a way of drawing his attention to her least favorite one.

"Ah, yes. I was going to ask about the one on your ribs, but this one I find more fascinating."

Her flushed deepened. She hadn't been speaking of that one but her basic childhood fumbles and tumbles on her knees and elbows. Loki must've noticed that one, too, during the night.

"I'd like to know the story behind it," he said, his pointer finger circling the two o's.

"It's a long one."

"Thankfully, I have a lot of time on my hands."

"Mmm." Hermione nodded and stole back her arm when Loki loosened his grip. She pulled down her sleeve and folded her arms again. "It's a lovely day, though, and I've made this boat cozy enough. I think I'm in the mood now."

Loki's laugh shrewd. "And I am not."

"Really? So if I were to undress right now, you wouldn't have a go at me?"

"If you were to undress right now, you would catch your death."

"But I'm a witch. I can be warm whenever I want to be." Hermione stood up and put her fingers on the clasp of her belt, drawing Loki's attention there. She tapped her fingers on the metal and then said, "Tell you what. I'll undress completely and get myself comfortable and if you still want to hear the story, I'll tell you. But if that's the case, I'll have to put my clothes back on."

She grinned inwardly in triumph when seeing his Adam's apple bob, and he said, "You won't have to redress, Hermione. You can very well tell me anything whilst nude."

"It's not the kind of tale one tells naked." She undid the clasp and removed her boots before tugging down her trousers, exposing her legs to the damp chill from the water and early morning. Goosebumps prickled her skin and still she continued on to remove her cloak and tunic.

For a moment, she stood in front of him in only her underwear and then retrieved her wand, casting a warming spell on herself as to not start shivering. She set the wand down on her pile of clothing and reached around the middle of her back and smirked mischievously at Loki. "I really, _really_ want you right now," she said, nibbling her bottom lip. She unhooked her bra and removed it, dropping it on top of the pile.

Her fingers rested on the elastic of her panties, and he inhaled, sharp and painful. "No, you don't. You just don't want to tell me how you got the scar."

Hermione shrugged and pulled down the scrap of ice-blue lace down to her ankles and kicked them off. "A mad woman carved me up."

"But there's more to it than that, isn't there?"

"Do you really want to know?"

Loki opened his mouth, his focus landing on the pile of clothes and then back to her naked form. His gaze languidly roamed her form, and his finger rested over his lips again. He was deciding.

"You could tell me later," he offered rather pathetically.

Hermione almost smiled and shook her head.

"Then I can have you later then."

"Do you want to wait until later when I'm here now? _Naked_ and waiting for you to ravish me?"

He stared at her body hungrily. His want was so blatant in his desire, she felt her skin warm considerably more from the attention.

"No," he rasped and then leaned back, putting a hand over his eyes. "But I will. _Damn you, woman_."

Hermione stared at him appraisingly and then stooped down to fetch her underwear, sliding on her panties and putting on her bra. Her trousers, tunic, and cloak were next. Once, she slipped her feet into her boots, she sat down—wand in hand and legs crossed. She shoved her hand into her pouch and pulled a crisp, green apple she'd stolen from the kitchen earlier and bit into it. His eyes narrowed on the apple and then lingered on her mouth. Again, he touched his lips pensively like he was deciding something else now.

Swallowing her bit of apple, the corners of her mouth upturned in a morose smile. "Once upon a time, there was a man named Tom Riddle Jr."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This picks up after chapter 7.**

* * *

Blinking several times to clear the blurry, concentrated fog obstructing her vision, Hermione registered the deep, horrible pain in her abdomen. The second thing she noticed was she was on her back and staring through a golden shimmery veil. Her gaze darted down and then around and took in how she was encapsulated in golden barrier. She touched it, and the veil dissolved, and she could see she was in her room.

The doors were wide open, and her two bedside tables were littered with different colored bottles, bandages, and bowls of water. She licked her dry lips and went to reach for the bowl on her right but retracted when feeling a searing pain in her upper abdomen. She cupped the area where it hurt and looked down. Below her bound breast were red and pink soaked wrappings encasing her ribs and stomach. Her finger followed the vertical pathway where her blood seeped through and remembered her encounter with King Alvid in the stable. Anger pulsed through her, and she called out, hoping someone would hear her.

"Hello!" Her voice cracked and was raspy, but she was heard. A guard appeared at her threshold a second later and then turned to someone she couldn't see.

"Alert the king," he ordered and stepped into her room. "Lady Hermione, you must lay back down. His highness will be here shortly." His eyes dropped to her bandages. "You need Eir." He returned to the hallway and spoke to another person—a guard most likely. "Fetch Eir. _Quickly_."

Hermione shivered, goosebumps sprouting on her skin. Her teeth chattered, and she attempted to cover herself properly with her single bedsheet but feeling too weak to manage it. She melted into her mattress, her eyelids lowering. God, she was tired. And thirsty. And cold. She was so cold.

Heavy footfalls were heard out in the hallway, and Hermione managed a pathetic "Thor" when he came bounding into her room. He paused for a moment, taking in her state before coming to her bedside. He grabbed her hand and fell to one knee, his features expressing more questions than concern.

"King Alvid," she forced out, making her cough. "It was him."

"You're weak, Hermione. You need to rest, but I am so relieved you're awake."

She let of his hand. "Listen to me. King Alvid—"

"I know," he said, his tone low and troubling. His nostrils flared, and he looked like he might break something.

Hermione relaxed. "Jane. I'd like to see her."

A queer, forced smile graced Thor's lips, and he stole back her hand, his thumb massaging the knuckles. "Hermione, I know you've partaken of an Apple of Iðunn. As does Eir. For now, we are the only three who know, and I'm debating whether or not to inform the council. I'm pleased you're alive. You would have died otherwise, but eating an apple is a serious offense. When… _How_ did you manage to get one?"

She chuckled, mirthless and pained, her reaction surprising him. "Loki." She swallowed and winced, her bones aching from chill, and she felt sweat gathering on her forehead. God, she was dying but not really. It was almost torture to be alive after the blow King Alvid dealt. He tore through her organs and nicked her lung, and she could _feel_ it. Tears slid down her face, and her lips trembled. She closed her eyes, her body needing to shut down. At least for a while.

"Loki," she heard Thor say. "He retrieved one for you?"

"No," she said, and the word barely came out as a whisper.

"Then what? I know you're tired, but you must tell me."

"Tricked," she replied and then fell into unconsciousness.

Hermione assumed she lay, practically dead, for a long time. It seemed like days passed when she woke up. Again, the shimmering veil greeted her. Touching it like before made it go away and with great difficulty, she propped herself up against her pillows. The bandages wrapped around her middle were in fairer shape than the last time, but spots of blood had leaked to the surface.

She still hurt, and she wondered why there hadn't been any consideration regarding pain medicine. And why was she still not healed? Eir used magic in her practices to further healing.

Longingly, Hermione looked at the bottom cabinets of her armoire where she stored her medicinal potions. The essence of dittany was gone because what happened in Jotunheim, but there were potions in her stash strictly for pain.

Only one door was open this go around, and she caught herself before calling out so the guards surely standing by would hear. At the moment, she'd rather call to someone else.

"Loki," she said quietly, shifting beneath her single sheet. She wasn't as cold as before, but she wasn't comfortable either.

The door swung closed, and she could hear the deadbolt locking into place. Loki materialized at the side of her bed, his expression blank. She opened her palm and offered for him to take it. He stared at it for a few seconds before rolling his eyes and taking it, and she saw his shoulders lax a bit.

"Thor knows," she told him, "about what you did."

His brows shot up and strained amusement danced in his eyes. "Oh, I'm aware." He sat down beside her and said, "Despite more important matters Asgard is facing at the moment, my brother still found a slot in his busy schedule to lecture me on the crime I committed in giving you that apple. He should really be thanking me and cease going on about _treason_ —"

"Giving me the apple was treason?"

"It saved your life _and_ his marriage. If you would've died like," he paused and avoided her gaze, clearing his throat, "you were expected to. Jane would've left him. Those two are already in such a sorry state as is." Tugging at her sheet, he examined her bandaged torso and said, "I can't imagine not as sorry as yours."

"Why am I not healed completely? I know Eir can help it along."

"As ridiculous as it sounds, dear King Alvid used a poison-laced dagger. Unique in make up. Her magic nor my own could touch it."

"Your own," she repeated, almost smiling. "You tried to heal me?"

"I'm insulted you sound surprised."

She reached for his face, caressing his cheek. "You make a girl wonder, Loki."

"How are you?" he asked, his breath tickling the heel of her hand.

"Honestly? I hurt. Surely a spot of pain medicine wouldn't be too much to ask for."

Loki sighed heavily, his features puckering in annoyance. "The palace healers are good, but they seemed to have forgotten you're Midgardian and fragile as an egg shell."

"I have some potions in my cabinets in the armoire. Fetch one for me, please, It's a dark green vial."

Loki obliged, saying nothing until he returned to her side. He uncapped the vial, and she took it from him, downing it all.

"You need it all?" he said, unsure.

Hermione nodded, placing a hand over bandaged wound, nearly sobbing when the pain subsided. "Thank you," she told him, taking his hand again. "King Alvid tried to kill me because he wants his sister to be a part of Asgard's royalty for whatever reason. He saw me as a threat— "

"Hermione, the entire council _including Jane_ know why. You've been in and out of consciousness for two weeks during which a full investigation was launched. Finding out who was the simple part. Heimdall saw everything. Discovering motive was another matter entirely, but it all came to light eventually."

"Jane knows? I'm sure she's angry with me now." Hermione rubbed her forehead,

"She's been angry with everyone. King Alvid is being held in the solitary confinement in the dungeons until the majority of the council can agree on what to do with him. He boldly and stupidly broke our peace treaty and the Realm Alliance by attempting to murder a high member of Asgard's court and the queen's blood relative. Your cousin's views on what should be done hops back and forth between sentencing him to death or dismantling his court completely which is a fancy way of saying war."

"Which can't be done. We just finished one with Jotunheim. The ranks aren't replenished yet. It would be foolish going to war. Especially over something like this—"

"Good to know you're not thinking so highly of yourself because you're right. The council would never agree in diving into a war with Vanaheim over you. They would consider it, however, if Princess Aslaug confessed during an interrogation the plotting she and her brother have been doing since before The Convergence and received word that I survived the Void and returned to Asgard. Their ultimate goal was to destroy the reign of Odin from the inside and take over. When discovering how partial I was to you, Aslaug told Alvid who then lost his mind in a fit and came after you despite Heimdall's talents."

Hermione frowned, decidedly unimpressed by the scheme constructed by Vanaheim's royalty. It was weak. Whether or not she'd been in the way, coaxing Loki into an arranged marriage would've been impossible. Perhaps King Alvid needed a tangible scapegoat, and she seemed like a good candidate.

"And what does Thor think? Is he still so forgiving?"

"He wants to purge King Alvid's court without the bloodshed and imprison him for the rest of his days. Adorable, I know. He wants to take control of Vanaheim by placing ambassadors there. Jane then pitched a peculiar idea of making the realm a democracy and allowing the people to decide who should rule them."

Hermione smiled weakly. "I apologize for my cousin. She can be obscenely American sometimes. Not that she would know real democracy if it bit her on the arse. It's a good game to talk about, though. Anyway, what about you? What do you think should be done?"

Loki slit his eyes and his spine straightened. His mouth twisted in a cold, ruthless smirk. "Do you really want me to tell you?"

"Not when your face looks like that."

"I'm terribly displeased. What should my face look like when I'm in such a state?"

She squeezed his hand. "Promise you won't be all sneaky and go behind the council's back. Promise me King Alvid won't mysteriously turn up dead in his cell. Or Princess Aslaug for that matter."

"Death could be their end anyway. If fate should quicken the journey— "

"I'm not disagreeing they shouldn't be punished. If the council rules they should be executed for their crimes, I'm not going to fight it. I'm not that forgiving nor am I ignorant. I just don't see the purpose in an assassination when you have them **incarcerated**. They're not going to get away with it, and I know you're _displeased_ , but don't make this personal."

"It's far too late for that." Loki glared at the washing bowl on her bedside table. "And I haven't killed them yet, but the day is far from over."

Sighing, Hermione oozed deeper into her mattress, the pain potion taking its toll on her weakened state. She felt so tired and frail. Glancing down at herself, she looked the part, too. Her body looked starved, but she wasn't hungry. She was thirsty, though.

"I'd like something to drink." She jutted out her bottom lip.

"Your healing chamber, the golden covering you most likely woke up to, provides the sustenance you require. You cannot eat, and you can't drink the fluids you need yet. Your…"

"My plumbing was sliced open."

He wrinkled his nose at her. "If you insist on putting it so foully, then yes. It can't handle food nor copious amounts of liquid, but it will soon. The potion you drank shouldn't cause further damage since it was for pain and nothing more."

"Will you wet a rag and let me suck on it then? My mouth is so dry."

"I suppose." He vanished the water from the bowl at her bedside and refilled it with fresh water. A stack of clean, white cloths was folded beside it. He grabbed the one on top and soaked it before handing it to her. Her lips and tongue touched the damp cloth, and she hummed contently.

A knock on the door, loud and purposeful, had them reeling their attention away from each other. They snapped their eyes on one of the guards who unlocked and opened the door and marched passed the threshold. Loki rolled his eyes, his tone exasperated when he said, "Please leave."

The guard stopped and dipped his head. "I apologize, your highness. The queen wishes to see Lady Hermione and will soon be h—"

Jane briskly walked into the room, her brown eyes throwing daggers at Loki. "Get out."

"I'm here to take care of your cousin. Aren't you grateful?" Loki smiled.

The glare directed at him was positively withering, and he exhaled in defeat, not that Hermione suspected he was actually frightened of Jane. He stood and bent over Hermione, brushing a kiss over her cheek. It was hard to tell if he was being genuine or if he merely wanted to get a rise out of Jane. Hermione guessed the latter.

"Bye," she told him, waving when he exited her room.

"You can leave, too," Jane said to the guard who nodded and followed after Loki, closing the door behind him.

Jane looked around, focus settling on her chair at the vanity and scooted to Hermione's bedside and promptly plopped down on it, arms folded and teeth clenched. Nothing was said for several tense seconds before she burst out saying, "Him? _Really_? Why? Oh, my God, because I just can't understand!"

Hermione pulled her sheet up to her shoulders, shrugging them. "It's complicated."

Jane furrowed one brow while the other arched. "That's a stupid answer, Hermione, and you know it. Is it about sex?"

Hermione chuckled, covering her warming face. "Then it wouldn't be complicated, would it? No, Jane, I really like him. He gets me."

"He's a monster. Have you forgotten about New York or Stuttgart? Before that when he first got to Earth, he killed others, too." Jane leaned forward, her features of dismay and concern.

"I haven't forgotten," Hermione whispered. "I'm not sure I've even forgiven him, and I don't expect you to understand. It's not like I understand you and Thor."

"Thor loves me, and he's nothing like Loki. He's kind and sweet and—"

"Arrogant and selfish and vain." Hermione breathed out sharply, calming herself. "I'm not going to turn this around on you, but I'm also not going to waste what little energy I have right now trying to sell you on Loki."

Jane scowled, and she looked so much like Hermione's late Aunt Daphne, Hermione nearly ducked under her sheet to hide from the reproving expression.

"I can't be happy about this. Or support it. You deserve better, Hermione. So much better, and he'll hurt you. You know that, right? Because I can see that. He'll disappoint you, and you'll be right where you were back in February. A cracked, empty shell who hates happy people."

Hermione stuck out her chin and then visibly deflated when it became too much of an effort. "I'm exhausted. We'll argue about this later, all right?"

A guilty expression washed over Jane which was quickly replaced by cold acceptance and then morphed into begrudging concern. She stood up and tugged at Hermione's sheet, holding the thin material in her fists and swearing. "They can't give you an actual goddamned blanket? You'll catch something and get sick and die…" Her voice faded and she breathed shakily, forcing the sheet to Hermione's chin. Her own chin trembled, and she covered her mouth.

Noticing the pink in Jane's cheeks and her watery gaze, Hermione poked her hand out from the sheet, offering it to Jane. "Hey," she said softly. Their fingers interlaced and stayed that way until Hermione fell asleep.

* * *

The next time she woke to the golden covering, she didn't immediately break it but laid there quietly. Several layers of blankets weighted her down, and the unbearable pain in her torso wasn't so bad anymore. It still hurt like hell, but she was healing. Her heartbeat was stronger than before, and it didn't smart so much to breath.

Through the sun-hued chamber, she could see the bright day of an afternoon shining through her window. The curtains were drawn, the sun illuminating her quarters. On the other side of the room, two guards stood by her doors, and she felt bad for them. How long were they to stand in a half-dead woman's chambers and for what reason? Hermione couldn't think of a good enough one at the moment.

She lay there for a while, not moving to arouse the guards' attention in case she passed out again before anything interesting could happen. She wanted to be more alert for her next visitor, whether it be from Jane, Loki, or Thor. Perhaps fifteen minutes went by when she started to feel drowsy again, and Hermione had the suspicion the chamber was encouraging it. She sighed and closed her eyes, tired of being so exhausted and useless at such a difficult time for Asgard. Loki wasn't exaggerating. What King Alvid did was an act of war.

However long later—hours or days—Hermione hadn't a clue, she woke up to the sensation of feeling wet and exposed. Her eyes fluttered open, and the golden chamber wasn't there. Jane was, though, and she was at her bed side dressed in a sweater and jeans. In her hands was a dribbling sponge, and she was washing Hermione's arm.

"What are you doing?" God, it was like trying to speak with nails lodged in her throat.

Jane's head snapped up and looked at Hermione. She paused in her ministrations and then continued, working the sponge to Hermione's shoulder and collarbone. "I'm giving you a sponge bath. The healer's assistants offered, but I told them I would do it and to go jump of a cliff."

"You did not."

"I wanted to," she muttered.

"Those are my clothes."

"I didn't feel like washing you in one of my dresses. This is more practical."

"I'm not upset, Jane." Hermione managed to sit up more and was relieved she could so without crying out in bloody murder.

"I am," her cousin stated.

"With me? About Loki?"

Jane's closed her eyes at the mention of him, and she shook her head. "Yes. No. It's not just him. It's everything." She took in a deep, shaky breath and when she continued, her voice was damp and trembling, "Asgard has to go to war, and we can't. We haven't recovered from Jotunheim, but what choice do we have? It's out of the question King Alvid can return to rule Vanaheim. We can't let Princess Aslaug go home, either. Our council has met with Vanaheim, and we've tried to negotiate but with King Alvid and the princess in our custody, the reign has fallen to his oldest son. He's practically a child and shares his dad's ideals. He wants Asgard. He's preparing for war."

Hermione put her hands over Jane's, taking the sponge from her. "Let me, all right? I can do it. You can sit down."

Sitting down on the chair behind her, Jane's knees bounced and she bit her lips and then said, "At first, I wanted to go to war. I was pissed. But now that everything is settled, this is a whole lot bigger than revenge. I don't know what to do at all and neither does Thor. He's in and out of Odin's chambers, hoping he'll wake up and instruct him on what to do. I can't even be upset with him over it because it's what I want to. Neither of us know how to do our jobs, Hermione."

Washing her neck and collarbones, Hermione nodded ruefully. "What does Loki want to do? I'm only asking because he's the third highest council member, not because of anything else."

"Thor's asked him to keep out of it. His ideas are worse than ours because the only thing on his mind is punishing all of Vanaheim for what their king did. And he's not talking about war."

"You know he's not being serious," Hermione said gently, dunking the sponge in the bowl of hot water on her bedside table. "However long ago it was, he told me you wanted to dismantle the court and perhaps set up a democracy."

"A cute idea," Jane said sarcastically. "It would still require war."

"Would it?"

"Well, I doubt one hundred and seventy-three people are going to willingly give up their titles."

"I just…feel like war isn't the answer to this."

"Because you know we'll lose, and you're afraid," Jane said. "I am, too, but we're going to have to fight. It's so much bigger than King Alvid trying to kill you. He spat on the treaty and betrayed us because he couldn't control his temper, and his entire court his behind him. It's not something Asgard can forgive."

"I know," Hermione whispered. "But there has to be a way Asgard can win with what little there is to spare. A surprise attack, maybe."

Jane knitted her brows together. "An invasion? No." She shook her head. "We've gone over it during the meetings. Not all of us can agree it's worth it. We could still lose a lot of soldiers."

Hermione sighed, nodding solemnly. "You're right. Could you…could you hand me my robe. I want to walk. I need to get out of this bed before _I_ start a war."

"No, Hermione, you're too weak—"

"I'm fine. I need to walk around for a bit, _please_."

Jane glowered at her disapprovingly and fetched her robe from the armoire. Hermione gingerly maneuvered off the bed and allowed Jane to assist her in slipping on the robe and tying the sash loosely around her middle. With their arms linked, they walked at a sluggish pace around the room, Hermione leaning heavily onto Jane. They passed by the window, and Hermione grabbed the curtain, tugging it aside to see dawn approaching. Her eyes wandered the snow-covered grounds, eventually settling on the stables. Eindride was out with one of the palace horses, walking it around the pasture.

"Jane," Hermione said quietly, her breath fogging up the glass.

"Yeah?"

"I have an idea."

Several minutes later, Jane returned to Hermione's bedroom with Thor and Loki following behind. Hermione sat on the edge of the bed waiting for them, tired but nowhere near ready to lay back down and fall asleep for several more days. Her heart felt strong, and her mind was sharp enough.

Loki stood at the foot of her bed, his gaze taking her in, assuring she was well and healing while Thor stood beside Jane by the doors. Jane had a hand on Thor's arm, and she said to Hermione, "Explain it to them."

Hermione looked at Loki and then Thor, saying, "You're going to trick them."

Her lover's expression shifted into surprise. "Do tell."

"How?" Thor said, and Hermione could see the rigidity in his spine and the worry lines on his forehead. Jane rubbing his arm did little to relax him.

"On Earth, thousands of years ago, there was a city called Troy. The Greeks were at war against the people due to things that don't matter right now. The point is, are either of you familiar with the story the Trojan Horse?" Hermione glanced Loki hopefully, and his eyes widened in recognition.

"How the Greeks finally won," Jane started, "was that they tricked the Trojans. They built a large, hollowed out horse and hid an army inside it and left it outside the city. The horse was mistaken as a gift and—"

"And was brought into the city. When night fell, the Greeks attacked and laid waste to Troy," Loki finished. He clasped his hands behind his back and said to Thor, "This is it."

Thor nodded, thumbing his chin. "We'll alert the council to gather for a meeting at once."

Jane shook her head. "We can't risk letting our plans slip. We _know_ there are spies in the palace. This is going to be our one shot. You and Loki are going to have to pull this entire thing off without letting any of the other council members know."

"We cannot conduct an attack without them," argued Thor.

"And we can't afford to have this plan blow up in our faces," Jane said.

Thor started to pace, tossing inquiring looks at Loki, looking for support to which Loki gave none by saying nothing and fixating his gaze on Hermione.

"Brother," Thor tried, wanting Loki's attention.

His eyes slid to Thor, his mouth partially splitting in an easy smile. "You know how I feel about secrets and tricks, brother."

"You're of no help." Thor continued his pacing for several moments before stopping. "I will ponder this and give my answer tomorrow morning."

"There's no rush," Jane said, taking his hand and squeezing it.

"But please be decisive come tomorrow morning," Loki clipped coldly. "And let us not forget how brilliant a strategy like this could benefit us. There would be no war."

"It would be war," Thor stated stonily.

"It'd be an invasion. There's a difference," Hermione said before Loki could reply.

"Barely," Thor spat and looked around at all of them. "Am I really the only one in this room hesitant about going through this without letting the council be a part of it?" He looked down at Jane. "My darling?"

Jane sighed, shrugging. "I stand by what I said. We know there are spies, Thor. I know you trust every single member of the council and with good reason, but my cousin was _almost murdered_ because King Alvid had spies. We've caught guards, captains, and a dozen lords who were in his back pocket. We still don't know how high up the food chain he got, but I'm not willing to take any chances. You consult with the council on the Trojan Horse, you'll be doing it alone. I won't support you in anyway."

Clenching his jaw, Thor shirked her touch and stormed out of the room. Jane scowled in his wake and rushed after him. "Thor!" she called and left Hermione and Loki without a second glance behind her shoulder.

"I believe you Midgardians call it 'trouble in paradise'," Loki quipped.

Hermione scoffed. "Do shut up and run me a shower."

"Are you well enough for that. I don't think you can wet your wounds—"

"I'm fully capable of not irritating my injuries." Hermione carefully leaned towards her bedside table and pulled open the drawer, happy to find her the pouch that held her wand. She palmed her bandaged torso beneath her robe, wincing and then fished her wand out, opening up the material a bit to cast a water-repelling spell. "I need a shower."

"You need rest."

Hermione got to her feet, extending her arm towards him. "Help me?"

"Lay back down, will you?" he said, exasperated, circling the bed.

"Not until I've showered. I feel so disgusting, and I know I look it."

His features turned stony, and he linked his arm through hers, letting her lean on him for all of three steps towards the loo before he lost patience and picked her up like a bride to be carried over the threshold. He pursed his lips at the fountain-like stone structure hankered into the ground, and he crooked his hand. A chair appeared beside the shower, and he set her down on her feet beside it, pulling at her tie and taking off her robe. He crumpled the garment and tossed it aside, his fingers following the swiveling of his eyes. His fingers brushed her neck, her collarbone, and wrappings over her ribs. He thumbed her left hip bone and clucked his tongue.

"You're too thin. I'll have to let Eir know it may be time to consider providing you liquids. I'm afraid the chamber may no longer be of use in this matter. You can use it and night, but other than that…" He started the shower and instructed her to sit. He summoned a washing bowl and filled it with warm water from one of the spouts and without ceremony, poured it over her head. She gasped and then sputtered, but her soiled skin and scalp relished the sensation.

Loki set down the bowl and reached for one of the vials on one of the shelves, uncapping it and sniffing. "This'll do," he said.

"A little goes a long way. Careful now," she told him. "I bought that in salon in Milan a few years ago. I still have it, so it goes to show what I mean."

Loki rolled his eyes and poured two small drops of her expensive shampoo on top of her head and work them into a lather. When her tresses were foamy and white, he added both hands into the mix, deep cleaning her hair as well as massaging her scalp.

Hermione closed her eyes, practically purring from his ministrations. "I love you, you know," she said.

"Are you still wrought with me over the apple?"

Why did he have to go and ruin the moment? She was having a lovely time, thank you very much, with him washing her hair and her feeling all grateful. He had to go and open his mouth, the bastard!

"You would be dead now without it," he continued, his tone amused and self-pleased.

Her head tilted back, she opened her eyes and looked up at Loki's upside down face. "How much trouble are you in over it?"

"Punishing me for it would bring the whole debacle to light, and Thor doesn't think it's worth fretting over now with everything that's going on."

"You committed treason. That's got to have consequences. If not now, then eventually. Thor was upset with me when I first woke up."

"He can be overly dramatic."

"He already chastised you," Hermione reminded.

"He yelled at a projection of myself for a solid hour. It was rather enjoyable, actually." He disentangled her hair from his fingers and refilled the bowl. He rinsed her hair, and she told him which cream rinse to put in her hair.

While spread the creamy pink concoction into her locks, she said, "I think I'm going to get my hair cut."

"No."

"It's not up to you."

"But, Lady Hermione, I have to be the one to look at you."

"Prince Loki, I wasn't aware you _had_ to."

He set down the bowl and knelt at her side, and she looked down at him, her lips itching to smile. He took her hand and thumbed her knuckles and the lower parts of her fingers. His thumb smoothed over something that wasn't there before, and Hermione saw a single gold band on her ring finger.

"I have to," he said gravely.

Hermione blinked. "I see," she said hesitantly.

Loki said nothing, standing to fill the bowl full a water again, mixing it with soap. He grabbed a sponge from the shelf and washed her body and soon, she was clean and ready for a towel. He fetched one for her, and dried off her limbs and torso before putting her in a clean robe. He carried her back into her bedroom, laying her on the bed where she raveled her hair into a braid and wiggled beneath the covers, ready to rest again.

Hermione almost smiled as Loki tucked and smoothed her bedsheets underneath her arms. "I'm not saying yes right now."

"I didn't ask," he replied coolly.

"It was implied."

"Was it?"

"You knelt down and gave me a ring. There's only one thing that means."

"Hmm."

She let her head fall onto the pillow. "I hate you."

"I know."

She turned onto her side, batting her lashes at him and poking out her bottom lip. "Will you read something to me while I fall asleep."

He skimmed the tips of his fingers over her forehead, brushing away the stray hairs resting there. "Go to sleep. I'm going to go speak with Eir and then persuade Thor of the Trojan Horse by chance that your cousin has failed in manipulating him to see things our way."

"Jane doesn't manipulate. I don't think she's capable."

"She's a woman. Of course she's capable." He shifted her covers again to his liking. "Are you warm enough?"

Hermione nodded.

"Good."

He left her room, closing the door behind him and through the barrier, she heard him speak to the guards, telling them to let no one besides himself or Jane into her room. She dozed off quickly after, succumbing to another deep sleep and when she woke up, the sky told her it was late afternoon.

She was bloody thirsty and wouldn't mind water and a bit of broth.

"You're awake. Excellent."

Hermione rolled onto her back and saw Loki in the chair next to her. He stood up and put his hand on her face, starting with her cheek and then head. She leaned into his touch, liking the coolness of his skin on hers.

"A bit feverish but nothing noteworthy."

"I'm thirsty."

"Eir is allowing you water and a weak tea of her own brewing. How are you feeling? Are you in pain?"

"It's manageable. I don't want to take anything for it, and I don't," she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, "want to rest anymore."

Hermione insisted she attend dinner much to Loki's chagrin. He tried to persuade her in keeping to her chambers, but she refused, saying she wanted out of her room. She shirked her robe and slipped on a dress and a wrap, the material hanging loosely from her body, and she surmised she'd probably lost at least a stone. If she'd been mortal and not healed by the illness that once ailed her body, she'd be more concerned. In time, the weight would return and she'd be strong and healthy again.

After redoing her hair and putting on a splash of powder and mascara to hide how miserable she looked, she linked her arm through Loki's, smiling weakly up at his frowning face.

"Aren't you going to escort your consort to dinner?" she chimed.

"But you're not my consort anymore," he said. "We'll pass by the members of the court. Are you prepared for their stares and whispers of mockery? They're not angry at King Alvid's attempt at your life. It's broader than that. They're upset of his breaking of the treaty and the alliance. They still don't like Jane. They do not like you."

"I've been disliked before. I can handle it." Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder. "Will you be able to?"

He took her hand in his own, squeezing it. "It will be wise of them to keep their opinions to themselves. I won't take kindly to anyone speaking ill of you."

Hermione smiled at rose up on her toes, pecking him on the cheek. "Except for you, right?" she joked.

"Our banter is all good fun. They wouldn't have shed a tear if King Alvid succeeded in killing you."

"Would you have?"

"I would've been far too occupied."

"Doing what?"

"Well, it's best not to say," he commented, his lips twisting into a cold, haunted smirk.

"Hey." She unlinked their arms, and she cupped his face. "Hey, I don't _ever_ want you to kill for me. Do you understand?"

He kissed the heel of her left palm. "Did you not take lives in Jotunheim?"

"To rescue you. In defense," she argued.

"And if I were murdered?"

She prevented herself from sucking in a sharp breath, horrified by the thought because it seemed plausible. He had enemies. Many and more than she could possibly imagine. Probably some right in Asgard, plotting for a perfect opportunity to present itself.

"It'd break my heart."

"Yes, but what would you do about it?"

He wanted her to avenge him and maybe she would if it came down to it. She wasn't above killing, but she wasn't like him. She'd been too long out of 'the field'. Her trip to Jotunheim taught her two things. One, she was sloppy. Two, she was more _civilian_ than she'd been in a long time. From an outsider's point of view, perhaps her rescue mission hadn't been so terrible. To herself, though, she broke many protocols. The Feindfyre? Flashy. The curse to keep that valley burning? Emotional.

"I'd do a lot of things," she said. "None of them good."

They left her room and walked to the stairwell. As they climbed downstairs, Loki brought up something that couldn't have been further from her mind.

"Thor disclosed that Jane wishes to visit Midgard. New York, to be exact, and consult with Tony Stark." His mouth curled in distaste.

"Yes, I know," she replied.

"My brother thinks you'll be going along for the visit."

Hermione rested on a step, her hand against the banister and she looked at him knowingly, not liking his tone one bit. It was jesting, serious, and controlling.

"I suspect the trip will be delayed given the state of things here. But, yes, I'd love to go back home for a little while."

"New York isn't your home."

"It's close enough."

"Jane plans to stay for a while. Longer than Thor which obviously means you'll be staying with her, and I can't see you. Not _there_."

"You could disguise yourself. I won't always be in Stark's building. I'll probably make frequent trips to Central Park. You could find me there. From there, we could go anywhere for a day. Like Surrey." She bit her lip. "To see my parents."

"I'm not allowed to go to Midgard," he said dryly.

"When has that stopped you before? And…you're going to have to meet them." She grimaced at the image. Loki sitting stiffly on her parents' couch while her Jesus-loving mother and atheist father glared at him from their respected chairs.

She imagined Loki answering honestly when her father would ask him what his intentions were for her.

 _"There is no other woman I wish to lay with for the rest of eternity. Your daughter's magical quim has besotted me, truly,"_ he'd say, his tone bored and distant.

Yikes!

There would be have to be a plan. A good plan. She already had half of one. Loki would be Lucas. An English solicitor she met in a Norwegian coffee shop whilst taking a morning stroll with Daphne in her pram. It'd all been rather rom-com from there—a meet-cute that escalated too quick, but _'Mummy, I really love him'_ , and _'Daddy, he's very well to do.'_ On top of that, there would be the _'Well, no, we haven't actually set a wedding date.'_

"Why? You clearly don't want me, too." He chuckled as if he read her internal conversation.

"You're right, I don't. I just have to. They're my parents, and it's only respectful that I tell them of the new man in my life."

"Would you have me believe you tell them everything? Because I know you don't." His looked at her left forearm where her scar was hidden, beneath the sleeve of her wrap and her magic. He then eyed the space between her ribs.

"I tell them what they can handle. They can handle you. Parts of you, anyway, and I won't be introducing you as Loki of Asgard, so you can leave your helm at home, darling."

Loki closed the distance between them and kissed her before saying, "I will not visit Midgard any time soon. Your dear mother and father will have to wait."

"I guess we both will when I go to New York," she challenged.

Loki started down the stairs again, and she followed. "There's a chance Jane may not want you to come with her now since she knows about us."

"You think she's going to leave me here with _you_ because she's feeling petty about us sleeping together. I know Jane better than you do, and she wants me off this godforsaken realm and away from you. Yes, I hurt with this," she pointed to herself and then him, "but I think she thinks you've seduced her downtrodden, divorcee cousin to irk her. She doesn't know about the apple or the ring." Hermione slipped the ring off her finger and dropped into her wand pouch. "And she won't until this whole mess with Vanaheim is over."

Indeed, the mess concerning Vanaheim wouldn't be over and done with for months. Four exactly and the trip to New York was unsurprisingly bushed back. Without the council's knowledge and support, Asgard's very own Trojan Horse had to be conducted in secret. The warriors chosen were hand-selected with careful precision. Ones who Thor and Loki were certain would oblige. Lady Sif and The Warriors Three were a given, but the plan needed forty more soldiers. Not an impressive army, true, but their plan was not to battle but invade and overtake the realm _in the wee hours of the morning_. It would be entirely under Asgard's jurisdiction by dawn. The court anc council would surrender and from there, Vanaheim's government would begin anew.

Hopefully.

* * *

"Something like a federal republic or a democracy," Jane suggested to Hermione, Loki, and Thor in one of their secret meetings in her bedroom. Why Hermione's quarters became the place to meet and discuss things, she didn't know. It would've been more appropriate and more comfortable in Thor's study.

Hermione caught Thor's and Loki's confused stares, and she replied with an expression of her own that said, _'Forgive her. She's shamelessly American.'_

Jane's idea wasn't horrendous. Not at all. It was just _too_ ideal and too different from what Vanaheim had been. There would be no more titles such as lords, ladies, earls, dowagers. Princess and princes, kings and queens would no longer exist. It would be a large, jagged pill to swallow for the remaining citizens. Hermione _was_ a fan of change. She loved it and supported a cause that could better a society, yet overturning an entire system was frightening. The rippling aftershocks could be catastrophic.

* * *

On the first of March, a private ceremony took place in the great hall. Only a handful from the council and court were invited to attend Jane's partaking of the Apple of Iðunn. It was all rather anticlimactic. Jane was handed the apple. She bit into it slowly, almost regretfully, and then swallowed. No one clapped or cheered. Just watched. Afterwards, Jane sought her out, and both girls hid away in forgotten nook in the main library where Hermione offered her silent presence to a weepy Jane who said nothing in return while tears flowed down her cheeks.

On the second of March, King Alvid's last hearing took place and at sunset, he was beheaded for his crimes and Princess Aslaug was roped to a stake and suffered the firing squad. It was all rather grim, inhumane, and archaic.

On the early morning of the third of March, a large golden raven sat outside the gates of the kingdom of Vanaheim. The craftsmanship was glorious, its beak hungrily open towards the sky and the body swollen and perched on a polished wooden cart. A gift of recompense from Asgard for the deaths of their king and princess.

By dawn of the fourth of March, Vanaheim belonged to Asgard.

Before the sun rose on the fifth of March, Hermione woke up when she reached for Loki and felt cold, empty sheets and a folded piece of parchment. On it, she read:

Take care of yourself in New York

-L

The trip to New York wasn't for another two weeks. Loki was gone.

To be Continued...

* * *

 **A/N** : I know. Kind of a cliffie. But as I stated in the last chapter, there will not be another flashback. At least not for a while, anyway, and it will have very little to do with our duo. I am debating whether or not to do the flashback when the time comes and just try to magically weave much needed info into the dialogue and Hermione's thought process. I feel like the flashbacks are being ill-received even though they're necessary for character development and making the lines connecting the dots a bit cleaner and straighter. So it's all up in the air now. We'll see what happens.

Thank you, readers and reviewers and followers. Thank you to those who put this fic on their favorite list. I hope this chapter was enjoyable. I'm sorry for any errors I may have missed through editing. Please read and review!


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: As promised, this chapter takes off from Chapter 9. No flashback today. Enjoy! Please read and review!**

 **P.S. I have nothing against New York and her people. What I write is for entertainment, not truth nor opinion.**

* * *

"Were there signs he was planning to escape Asgard?"

Hermione flinched, having caught herself falling into another stupor. She braced herself on one of the posters of her bed and jerked her head up to stare at Thor. She furrowed her brow, processing his question and then vaguely shook her head.

"No." Her words were slow and distant. She glanced at her rumpled sheets. The maids hadn't been called to tidy up. There were more pressing matters.

Like Loki running off in the night when he was still _technically_ under house-arrest.

"No," she said again, this time more confident. "But there were _signs_."

"I don't understand."

"He wasn't sleeping well." Beat. "Or at all some nights. And during the day, he'd zone out."

Thor frowned. "Zone out?"

"We'd be in the library or having a conversation and he'd be there but _not there_. Often I'd catch him staring into space. Do you know what I mean? I thought it was because he was tired. He wasn't sleeping so…"

Rubbing his jaw, Thor paced her room, his expression troubled, _fearful_. Hers probably looked the same. This was bad. This was really, _really_ bad.

"Do…" God, she felt sick asking. "Do you think he went to Earth to…finish?"

"Hermione, he can't go to Midgard. He's bound to Asgard."

"I know he _can't_ , but he has." Hermione let go of the poster of her bed and went towards Thor. "You know this, and you know Loki's not here. We don't know where he is, and Heimdall can't locate him."

His expression turned confused. "For the war with Jotunheim, his bindings were temporarily neutralized. When you brought him home, they were redone."

"Yes, but I'm talking about before. He came to visit while I was on Earth. He told me…" Her voice faded at Thor's horrified face and then hesitantly continued. "He told me you lessened the bindings."

He bristled. "I did no such thing. You knew he had the capability to leave, and you didn't feel the need to mention it to anyone?"

"I thought you knew," Hermione said defensively. "I thought you were only concerned if he was getting in trouble, but you didn't answer my question. Do you think he's on Earth trying to finish what he started?"

Thor was unhappy with her. He looked at her like it was all her fault. Loki's leaving was her doing. The imbalance of Yggdrasil rested on her shoulders, and she lost her footing.

"Heimdall is keeping an eye out. If Loki's in any of the realms, he'll show his hand eventually." He sighed, heavy and begrudging. "I'll have to tell to Tony Stark if Loki does not turn up before then. He won't take it well, but I won't tell him or any of the others if they happened to be there that you knew he could break his bindings. For Jane's sake, not yours."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks warming at realizing how much trouble she could actually be in if certain people found out she said nothing about Loki being able to come and go as he pleased.

Thor sighed again, this one belying his sympathy. "Are you well, Hermione? You seem out of sorts."

"What is your definition of well?" Her sort of fiancé who happened to be three-quarters mad could be cooking up life-threatening mischief and mayhem at that very moment. She loved him, and he loved her in his own way. But… _But_ he was still Loki. His smoothed over edges he presented to Asgard as of recently could've very well been a ruse. Not causing a stir and watching everyone relax before pulling the rug out from under them. It fit his motif.

No, she couldn't say she was well at all.

"Will you join Jane and I for luncheon?"

Hermione scanned her bedroom, considering the prospect of shutting the curtains and locking the door behind Thor to barricade herself off from the rest of everyone for several days. She wouldn't, though. There was no point in wallowing. It wouldn't bring Loki back and if… _when_ he did come back, she'd be waiting. Waiting to hex him within an inch of his life. This would put them right at the beginning again. Back to the dining table where he called her a whore, and she addressed him as being overall inept.

"Yeah, I'll be down," she muttered.

* * *

For the next two weeks while Thor and the council occupied themselves with finding Loki, she kept her days full with Jane and Daphne and her murky attempts at translating the runes of the Bifrost brand. At night, she didn't sleep well and the first week without Loki, she'd read from her collection of books from her shelf until passing out. The second week, she unearthed her journals again from her trunk and began to flip through them again. Thor disclosed something to her that had her backpedaling again to a different time when she didn't even know Loki at all.

It was almost wistful.

The night before they would leave for New York, she and Thor got into a bit of row over Loki after dinner in a corridor not far from his and Jane's chambers.

"I believe Loki's managed to escape Yggdrasil entirely. I fear he's crossed galaxies to seek out the Chitauri and finish his endgame. Your initial worries may be right."

"How can you possibly know that?" Hermione hissed. "Did he leave clues for you? Or are you jumping to conclusions? It doesn't make sense, Thor. Why would he do that? They can't be happy with him. Why would he go to them when they'd kill him for showing his face?"

"It doesn't have to make sense. Loki does not make sense," Thor replied gravely. "I know him better than you. It's fortunate you've only known the better parts of him, but I've seen and experienced him at his worse. He likely planned this for a long time."

"Then why didn't he ask me to come with him? If he was planning to leave all along, it doesn't make sense. Give me an apple, win me over, and then go off God knows where? He loves me."

Thor's gaze turned skeptic. "Does he?" His voice was gentle and patronizing. "Perhaps. Which would explain why he didn't ask you to come. It would've been dangerous. But I am not entirely convinced he did. When King Alvid wounded you, it seemed like he was hardly bothered."

Hermione regarded him in disbelief. "Maybe to you. He wouldn't want to show how upset he was to everyone. This is Loki we're talking about, and he showed me. He visited me in my room. He gave me…" She swallowed and folded her arms protectively. "He gave me a ring, okay? He wanted to marry me."

He touched her shoulder and then squeezed her upper arm in comfort. "Hermione, you are not the only woman who's got themselves caught up in Loki's tricks. He has had phases and for a while, I did believe you were different from the rest. You _are_. You're nothing like others, but I think it was all the same for him."

"The apple—"

"A trick. A cruel one. He gave you the apple knowing full well he'd never commit to you."

"He gave me a ring," she repeated angrily, yanking the golden band out of her pouch and thrusting under Thor's nose.

"He never told you about Sigyn," he said, unmoved by the damning piece of jewelry in front of his face.

Hermione blinked and then scoffed. "He said she was his betrothed, and she died a long time ago."

Thor shook his head. "Sigyn is alive, and she's not his _betrothed_. Not originally. She's his wife. He seduced her away from her real betrothed, married her, and then discarded her quickly after because he got what he wanted from her. He may have given you this ring, Hermione," he gestured to trinket, "but he couldn't have married you. He knew that. Asgard no longer has—"

"Bigamy," she finished. She covered her mouth, and closed her eyes, recalling something he said to her months ago.

" _I'm a married man and the old ways of bigamy are indeed over. I can't have you and Princess Aslaug."_

I can't have you and Princess Aslaug.

I can't have you and Princess Aslaug.

I can't have you _or_ Princess Aslaug.

He'd said it. Practically. He'd pretty much told her in the subtlest, most careful of ways. To have a good laugh at his own joke because he knew she wouldn't catch it.

"If Sigyn is alive and Loki doesn't want her anymore, why didn't he divorce her?" she said calmly. Too calmly.

Thor didn't answer. Maybe because he didn't know why or he did, and it would just upset her more if he told her.

Hermione bit her tongue and tapped her foot erratically on the floor, pocketing the ring again and wondering what she was going to bloody do with it.

"Where is Sigyn?" she asked. "Is she here? In Asgard?"

"She was in Alfheim half a century ago. Like Loki, she's capable of crossing realms without assistance of the Bifrost. She could be anywhere now and is capable of altering her appearance. Like Loki."

Hermione glared at Thor, forcing him to see the hurt she was feeling. "You knew this and you didn't tell me. You didn't tell Jane, so she could tell me. Why would you keep this from me?"

"Because I thought you knew. I thought Jane knew. It's common knowledge in your mythology, Hermione."

"It's common knowledge that you married Sif. It's common knowledge you have five brothers. It's common knowledge Loki fathered an eight-legged horse and Hel. I don't know if you're aware, Thor, but there was a lost in translation from here to Midgard." Hermione cupped her head, letting out a ragged breath. Her brain hurt. It was trying to connect all the dots, trying to form a clean and complete story leading up to Loki's absence because she couldn't grasp it. Not all of it. She couldn't swallow everything Thor was giving her.

She had memories. They were _real_ memories of her and Loki. His love for her was jagged but genuine. He couldn't fake all that. Not every kiss or affectionate whisper in her ear. There would've been more than just one hint. Even the most skilled actor couldn't pull that.

 _Is he not the God of Lies? Is this not what he does?_

Thor took her hand, enclosing it in his. "I apologize. I should've intervened and told you everything when you came forward about your relationship with my brother. I did not." He ducked his head, sheepish. "You were so confident you could go to Jontunheim and save him, and I had run out of options. And I wanted to hope that if you did succeed, he _would_ love you for your bravery, passion, and loyalty."

"Stop." She shook her head, stealing back her hand, so she could rest it below her heart. It steadied her quivering ribs. "Just stop, please. I can't talk about this anymore." In a daze, she left him in the corridor.

"Hermione," he tried.

"Good night," she tossed over her shoulder, numb. "I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

 **March 2015**

 **New York City**

Tony Stark.

Was an arsehole.

Someone had to say it.

At the dining table in the suite of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, four sets of eyes rested on her. Three of the four looked amused. The fourth set—belonging to Jane— looked nervous. She cringed and busied herself by shoveling quinoa into her mouth.

It was her third day at Stark Tower and the moment she met the owner, he grated on her nerves. His level of arrogance was heinous, and he was flamboyant with his money-spending. The way he treated his own intelligence was like an afterthought, and he was without a doubt completely uninterested in helping Jane progress her work.

That first night after dinner and over drinks Stark had said to Jane, "You're a smart cookie, but the answer is no fucking way."

Thor wanted to hit him and almost did. Pepper chastised him and apologized to Jane, a jumbled sorry with a milquetoast explanation on why Tony was not interested in intergalactic space travel.

Hermione had glared, silent, and Tony's glass of expensive bourbon shattered in his hand which was the reason Thor _did not_ hit him.

Everyone put up a fuss concerning Tony's bloodied, injured hand except Thor who took a step back when Pepper rushed to her boyfriend and Jane went in search of a first aid kit. Thor stared at Hermione, his expression unreadable. The corner of her mouth twitched upward for all of two seconds, letting him know that was her.

Presently, at the dining table while all eyes were still on Hermione for her accusatory stance on calling Mr. Tony Stark such a foul title, she exhaled long and slow, painting an apologetic look on her face. Shrugging sheepishly, she said, "My apologies for the language, Mr. Stark, and my manners. This is your home, and I've overstepped my bounds. It's just I don't particularly care for how you treat my cousin's lifework. I understand you are not in favor of an Einstein-Rosen bridge. I understand and respect your perspective, and I see the risks you see. Of course we don't want another attack on Manhattan or anywhere for that matter.

"But remember there was another one in London over a year ago, and it's time to be realistic. What if we experience a _Pearl Harbor_ on a global scale by outsiders that we know are capable of visiting, and they leave because they can come and go as they please? Jane's dangerous thinking could gain us the advantage of following our attackers back home, and taking war to them, their playground. I'm talking about retaliation, Mr. Stark, as well as the fact that the technology to achieve the bridge is skimming our fingertips. _Everyone's_ fingertips. So you and Jane don't collaborate? Fine. However, if you two don't do it, someone else will, and they may not be as _good_. Could you imagine North Korea developing a bridge, not for intergalactic travel but to—"

"Hermione, please," Jane said, her cousin shaking her head, her does eyes wide.

Tony wiped his mouth with his napkin and tossed it on his plate. "I need some air." He stalked out of the dining room, leaving the three of them in awkward silence.

"I'm going to check on Daphne," Jane said, picking up the baby monitor and leaving the room, too.

Next, it was Pepper. She smiled sympathetically at Hermione and said before leaving, "You brought up some really good points. Tony knows that. He's just scared."

With she and Thor now alone, he let out an annoyed sigh. He looked so ordinarily handsome in his earthly attire, she couldn't really think of him as a king at the moment.

"Problem?" she said.

"I understand Mr. Stark is an acquired taste when it comes to company, and I don't appreciate the way he spoke of Jane's work. You _are_ right, Hermione. Next time, I think it would be best to let me handle it. I'm his friend and you're…"

"If he didn't think he'd get chastised by _someone_ at this table, then he's not as brilliant as he thinks he is. I'm extremely underwhelmed by him. Hero or not, he's a jerk."

"The Chitauri invasion unsettled him. When he guided what your people call…a missile into the portal above this tower, he saw or experienced something that is still troubling him. I'm sure it's the reason of his reluctance to help further Jane's work."

"One man's PTSD can't be the reason western civilization should stop advances in expanding intergalactic knowledge when this world has already had two attacks from other dimensions. If Loki did seek out the Chitauri again, we need to be prepared for a third and be ready to take the war to them."

"I haven't told him of Loki yet. I'm unable to find the words," Thor confessed as if Hermione hadn't known. Of course he hadn't told Stark yet. Stark would've had a tantrum, that one. Although…telling Tony of Loki's escape and the possibility of another attack could be the push needed to get the ball rolling on a Bifrost for Earth.

Hermione slid her gaze around, her magic rubbing uncomfortably against the potent strength of electricity in the room. She'd bet there were cameras and such around somewhere.

"He'll probably know now if not soon. I'm sure there are recording devices all over the place."

"I'm sorry!" Tony marched back into the room. "What were you two jabbering on about? It couldn't be that you misplaced your lunatic, psychopathic brother could it, Thor? Because that would crazy! Am I right?!" He laughed and spread out his arms. "Of course I am! Because _no one_ misplaces war criminals slash terrorists! That would be absurd!"

"Tony, let me explain," Thor tried.

"It's not me you're going to have to answer to. Fury's going to have an aneurism!" Tony whipped out his cellphone and started dialing.

"Tattling like a good little boy?" Hermione said, folding her arms and cocking her hip, her tone condescending.

"Only to someone who needs to get laid more than you do, sweetheart."

"If Lady Hermione decides to lay waste to you, I'm not going to stop her," said Thor, menacing.

"I'm terrified," Tony said, deadpanned, putting the phone to his ear.

"You should be."

"Thor," Hermione warned, shaking her head, and he shot her an apologetic look. "Allow Mr. Stark to feel important and clever for a few minutes. It'll be over soon, and the world will be back to normal."

"It's not a wonder why Loki jumped ship if she was hanging around all the time. I'd gnaw off my manacles and run away, too."

Thor stepped towards Tony, and she put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't. It's okay. Tony and I have both said some harsh things to each other this evening. We're both acting like children, and it ends now."

"Hey, Cap," Tony said into his phone. "Thor's in town, and he has something to tell you." Pressing a button on the device, he extended out to Thor. "It's on speaker, so just tell him what's going on."

Hermione pointed to the hallway. "I think I'm going to leave."

Thor tossed her an expression of resentment and betrayal, and she stopped and showed him her hands. "I'm sorry. This is an Avengers thing," she hissed. "Having a conference call with Captain bloody America is a bit beyond my pay grade, don't you think?"

"I'd like your input," Thor said softly. "You're a part of my council."

"Since _when_?"

"Since we strategized together the invasion of Vanaheim, and it's seems rather prudent to have a Midgardian member besides Jane and with Loki absent..."

"You'd pick her over me. I'm offended" Tony said, actually sounding hurt.

Hermione ignored him. "Aren't you supposed to ask me first? And if you did want a member of your thinking squad, Jane should be here. Not me. Definitely not me."

"Rightly so. We shall wait until she's done nursing Daphne, then our conversation can start. Hermione, I still wish for you stay."

Tony coughed uncomfortably, his phone still facing Thor.

"No."

" _Can I say something?"_ a man—Captain America, presumably—said from the speaker of Tony's phone.

"What could you possibly have to say? You don't even know why I called yet," Tony said.

" _I only want to know who the woman is talking. Is she, like, special? No…special isn't the right word."_

"Unless you mean Special ED," Tony quipped.

"She's Jane's cousin," informed Thor, "and has proven herself an asset to Asgard and myself." He paused and then admitted, "Loki has escaped, Steve."

" _What?!"_

"So we're not waiting for Jane? All right." Hermione began tiptoeing backwards. "I'll just go then."

"No, you stay!" yelled Tony, the man pointing at her.

"Oh, my God, _why?!_ "

He chuckled and waved his arm at her dismissively. "I'm just kidding. You can bounce."

Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes and then pinned them on Thor. "If you kill him by accident or on purpose, I will go to my grave saying it wasn't you."

Thor cracked a smile. "I appreciate your loyalty."

Hermione snorted. "Yeah, okay. You can call it that."

With much relief, she left the two—no, three men— in the dining room and took the elevator down to Jane's and Thor's suite. Jane was in the master bedroom, shirt undone and holding Daphne to her breast as she rifled through the scattered sheets of paper on the bed.

"Have you ever been stumped by something—"

"Not really, no."

"Hush. Have you ever been stumped by something, took a break, came back, and suddenly it all kind of made sense? And I don't know what changed, but these sigils from the Bifrost stamp are starting to come together. I think I'm going to be able to weave them into the formulas. Now if I can't just get Tony Stark to take a look at them."

Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed. "It may have to wait until tomorrow. Thor told him about Loki, and now they're having a boy-huddle in the dining room with Captain America on the phone."

A peculiar expression passed over Jane's features, and she gnawed on her bottom lip nervously. "You're going to hate me."

"I'd say I could never hate you, Jane, but there have been moments—"

"Okay, when we first got here and Tony and Pepper saw we had an extra _single_ person to our party, they approached Thor and me about setting you up with him. Like on a date. If he happened to drop by."

"Who?" Hermione frowned.

"Captain American. _Steve Rogers_."

Her frown deepened.

"I told them no and so did Thor. We said you just got out of relationship, and you wouldn't be interested, but I got the vibe they didn't really care about your feelings at all and were determined to find Captain America a date. Now what's happened with Loki, Steve Rogers will show up, and I'm afraid I won't be able to save you from our hosts playing cupid."

"I'll save myself, thanks." Hermione pulled her phone out of her jeans-freshly charged-and thumbed the screen. She had a message. "I'll keep busy. I even came in here to tell you I've gotten in touch with an old friend who lives here now. I was coming to let you know I'll be back late. I'm going to go and catch up with him."

"Oh. So when you say old friend, do you mean old friend or do you mean _old friend_?"

"Neither, to be honest. A former…sort of friendly coworker. When the time's right, I'd like to return to work, and he'll be able to help me out with that. Plus," she paused, looking down at her hands, "I just got out of a relationship with a bloke, and I had really liked him despite…a lot of things. When I say I'll be late, it's because my meeting will take a while. Not because I'm on the rebound."

"If you were, I wouldn't judge you. I want you to move on, and I want you to be happy. This might be hard for you to hear, but I'd love if you just forgot about Loki."

Hermione smiled solemnly, shaking her head. "Sometimes I wish that, too." She stood up with a sigh. "All right. Have a good night. I will see you in the morning."

Running three minutes later, she made it to her destination, flushed and breathless. Fishing her wallet out her pocket, she said to the man behind the counter, "How much for skates?"

Finding a spot to remove her shoes and shove her feet into a pair of ice skates, Hermione sat down on a bench next to a bloke and tugged at the laces of her boots, saying, "I can't believe how much snow there still is."

"You're supposed to ask if I have the time because your watch is broken."

"I don't have a watch, and this meeting is much too informal for codes, Nott. And really? An ice skating rink?"

"I was wining and dining a lady friend nearby when I got your message. This seemed appropriate."

"I sent the message three days ago."

"I only bothered to read it when my date was becoming a bore and she left the table to powder her nose. I would've ignored it otherwise."

"Your curiosity would've won out eventually. I know you."

They stashed away their shoes and made their way out onto the Rockefeller ice rink. Hermione steadied her legs and reacquainted herself with the gliding movements, soon feeling comfortable to skate backwards and a bit faster, so she could face Theodore Nott.

Her old boss.

Digging her toe-pick into the ice and doing a full 360 around him, she said, "Let me come work for you."

Nott gave her an appraising look through slit eyes, swiftly running his gaze up her form, from the metal blades to the top of her head. Without preamble, he grabbed her arm gruffly and pulled her close enough to kick at one of her skates and shove her down onto the ice.

Hermione hit the ice _hard_ , bruising her elbow, arse, and the base of her spine and hip. She stilled herself before her skull could connect with the hard surface. She groaned, shifting onto her opposite hip and attempting to push herself up into a standing position.

In her peripheral, a man came up to her and Nott and extended a hand, suspicion directed towards Nott. Really? Was he, like, the only person in the populated rink who saw what Nott did to her? Hermione looked around and no one was looking in their direction. It was almost like they were doing so on purpose.

Bloody New Yorkers.

"Are you okay?" asked the man.

"Don't help her," Nott stated stonily, a frigid mask of indifference plastered on his face. "She has to pick herself back up."

"Is this man bothering you, ma'am?" said the man.

"No, I fell," Hermione said through clenched teeth. The man didn't move, his arms spread and ready to assist her with whatever she needed and she barked, " _Leave!_ "

The man flinched and then scoffed. "Whatever, bitch," he muttered and skated off.

Hermione gingerly climbed to her feet, her face contorting from the aches seeping into her bones. She rubbed her elbow, and hissed. It needed some attention, and she said to Nott, "A simple no would've sufficed."

"That was not a declination. That was a lesson, Granger. Now what did you learn from the demonstration?"

"What?"

His hands hit her shoulders before she could even react, and her skate was kicked again. This time she landed flat on her back, the impact knocking the air out of lungs and sending jolts of pain up and down her spine and furthering bruising of her tailbone.

Nott arched a brow at her. He buttoned up his coat, looked away, almost appearing embarrassed. Not of himself or his actions but of her. "For God's sake, get up," he muttered under his breath, his chin dipping 'hello' at a passerby.

The second time took her longer to get up, and her temper flared. Her cold fingers curled, and she swallowed the blood in her mouth. She'd bit her tongue that last fall.

"You should be so lucky, Granger. You know I don't do second demos. So what did you learn?"

"Go fuck yourself."

She was ready for the blow to come. His arms reached out, and she hit the insides of his elbows and grabbed the back of his neck and brought his forehead down to connect with hers. He wavered on his skates, and she twirled around, ramming her elbow into his solar plexus, beneath his ribs, and then the lowest part of his abdomen. She turned again to face him and saw him on one hand and knee, the other hand up in surrender. She ignored it and punched him in the nose.

"I'm going to skate around the rink once, and then I'm going to buy some pain killers. You're going to be at our old rendezvous point in Central Park in exactly twenty minutes. Be there or I will find you and then I will hurt you. Badly."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, she and Nott sat in silence on a bench. Her jacket on her lap and the sleeve of her sweater was rolled up passed her elbow, an ice pack shoved against the swollen, scraped and rouged skin. Next to her, Nott shook three ibuprofens into his palm from the bottle she purchased on the way to the Central Park and tossed them into his mouth, draining the rest of her water bottle with them.

A paper sack of food separated them, and Nott reached in and pulled out a wrapped gyro and wiggled it at her in offering.

"It was a woman I met online. Funny place called Tinder. When I saw her waiting at the table where she said she'd be, she looked nothing like her profile. Left her there and contacted you. Never got to eat, really. It's tilapia," he said.

Her molars pressed against each other so hard, she could almost hear them cracking. "I'm not hungry."

"I thought it was appropriate given our history."

Nott was talking about that one Christmas Eve ten ruddy years ago when everyone besides herself and him left for home early. They both had to stay behind to finish reports while Malfoy and Pucey blew theirs off to go home to their families. When the clock struck six and their reports were halfway finished, Nott had seemed reluctant to go home and proceeded to offensively ask 'what kind of shit Muggles ate' and ordered her to go fetch said 'shit' because he was her boss, and he was hungry.

Following a few choice words directed at him, Hermione complied and returned with gyros from Carpo's. When she returned, Nott was drunk off his arse, an empty bottle of Firewhiskey beside him. The moment she walked into his office, he professed to his pregnant wife leaving him that morning, and he loathed the idea of going home to an empty flat because she took the dog with her.

" _She took Poppet,"_ he had said, breaking down into a fit of sobs.

"I hadn't realized you allegorized gyros with our history. That's positively moving, Nott. I don't know what to say."

"Ah, don't worry about it, love. Let me do the talking, all right? I got some things I have to say to you. One," he shoved the exposed end of his gyro into his mouth and spoke with his mouth full, "you're here in New York. My city now. Two, you're a right, pathetic mess. You reek of civilian and slowed reflexes. Three, I am immensely upset you had the nerve to contact me. Four" he swallowed, "I'm immensely upset you had the nerve to contact me through personal text messaging. Five—"

"This will go on forever, Nott. The hundredth thing you have to say to me will be about something I did to you at Hogwarts or some rot. I get it. I'm _rusty_."

"Even if you weren't, you're still not qualified. Did you think I was joking when I said you were never going back into the field?"

"That was years ago, and you said that to save face. You run your own branch now. No one can dictate who you hire."

"You think I let you and Malfoy go because I was trying to please my uppers." Nott giggled. " _No!_ I got rid of both of you because I couldn't stand the sight of you two after what happened in New Orleans!" He chucked the rest of his gyro back into the bag and exhaled roughly. "Christ, Granger. You don't even know."

Hermione glared at him, nostrils flaring. "Hire me, or I'll go freelance."

"So eager to get yourself killed," he said, disgusted, unearthing a pack of cigarettes. He pinched one between his lips and said, "What happened? Your post-divorce rebound go to shit?"

"What?"

"Don't play dumb. You forget how well I know you and know people. You _finally_ got divorced last year and then you probably did something very unlike yourself and immediately dove head first into a waterless pool called the Rebound Pit of Regrets. You fell for a bloke a little too quickly, and it came back to bite you in the arse. Now instead of curling up in front of the telly to watch your favorite Jane Austin film with a bucket of Ben  & Jerry's like a normal woman, you think going back to work will keep your mind off how utterly pathetic you really are."

"You never fail to remind me why your ex-wife left you."

Nott had a few more drags of his cigarette and then stubbed it on the side of the bench before returning to consider his gyro. He finished it off and wiped his hands with his napkin, saying nothing for quite some time. Hermione didn't bother him. She knew he was mulling over her threat to go freelance.

Finally, after several minutes, Nott said, "Kill Gellous Frack, and you'll have your in."

Hermione froze, her stomach souring and her heart thudding fast in her chest.

"Unless you think you can't. Unless it's too much for you. I mean…you couldn't do it five years ago, and you were more or less at the top of your game then. It's fine to accept you're incapable of taking him out now."

She cinched her lips together, her hands rubbing over biceps to keep warm. It was already cold, but the mention of Gellous Frack made her feel hypothermic. He'd been her last mission before being forced into retiring from the field and the agency.

She failed her last mission.

Thus, the forcing out.

It hadn't just been her, though. Malfoy had been her partner, and the mission had been his folly, as well. They were both let go after the botched mission in New Orleans.

"He's still alive?" croaked Hermione. "I had hoped he wasn't. I thought by now someone spry and talented managed to come along and do us all a favor."

"This is off the record, but England has two agents working their way up the ranks to get close to him. It's a going to be a slow, aggravating process. Mid-January, Intelligence asked me to send out one of my own before they even bothered with those two agents. I did, and there's been no response since. Frack's still kicking." Nott cleared his throat and focused his gaze in the opposite direction of her.

Hermione studied the jutting of his chin and the tick of his jaw, noting the faraway look in his eyes.

"You must've been partial to the agent," she said. "I'll kill Frack for you because you were."

Nott snorted, sharp and wounded. "I'm partial to all my agents. If you don't bloody come back, I'm going to bomb all of Wizarding New Orleans. Consequences be damned. I'm sick of this, and I want him dead. I want his head, Granger. Bring it to me, and I'll give you whatever you want. A job, my bleedin' first born, it's yours."

She wrinkled her nose. "I'm not going to bring you his head. I'm a hit witch, not a butcher."

"Bring me _something_."

Hermione slipped her hands into the pockets of her coat, warming them. She swallowed thickly and asked, "When would you like for him to die?"

"A decade ago."

"I can't leave right away, unfortunately."

"I guess I should've been more detailed in the job offer. You have twenty-fours to complete your mission or the job offer is withdrawn, and I will alert British intelligence one of its former _more discreet_ assassins is looking to pimp herself out to the highest bidder. If you die, however, I won't slander your name. There'd be no point."

Hermione glared at him.

"Tick tock." He crinkled up his paper sack and got to his feet. "I trust you're resourceful as ever and can be in Louisiana within the hour."

She said nothing, eyes lowering to her lap as Nott walked off. She sat there for a half-hour or so before she called Jane, a lie tumbling off her tongue.

"My old coworker thinks he might be able to get me a job, but it's in Boston. He's arranged for an early morning interview tomorrow. We're about to leave. I won't be back tonight, but I'll be—"

" _You're lying."_

"I'm not."

" _I know you are. You can't possibly have an interview lined up already and even if you did, you'd have to bring more_ _than what you have on your person, Hermione. What's really going on?"_

"I can't force you to believe me," Hermione said, "but I won't be back tonight. I'm sorry."

 _"Ugh._ _Fine_." And then more calmly. _"Fine. It's fine. You're an adult, and you are in charge of your own life, even though, you're extremely inconsiderate sometimes."_

"Says the woman who _begged_ me to stay a year in _Asgard_ after dragging me there for a wedding I'm not even sure should've happened." Hermione quickly yanked the phone from her ear and rubbed her forehead. God, what did she just say? Sniffing, she put the phone back to her ear and said, "I'm sorry. That was out of line—"

" _We will finish this tomorrow after dinner. It's going to be at Le Bernardin. The reservation is at seven, and you better be there. Steve Rogers is going to be there, and Tony is_ _going_ _to push him on you, and I'm not going to do a damned thing to stop it. Goodbye."_

The line went dead.

Hermione slid the phone into the pocket of her jacket and sat back down on the bench, hunched over with her elbows on her knees. She needed to think. It was nearly nine o'clock. Nott gave her twenty-four hours.

Twenty-four hours to kill a man governments had been trying to off for over ten years.

She was going to die.

Or worse, denounced and discredited by British Intelligence and the Ministry of Magic.

Her priorities were very straight, thank you very much.

* * *

 **Ten Hours Later...**

Early morning gradually lightened the cloudy, grey sky over the Louisiana Bayou. It could've been warm. The air was muggy, but the rain was chilled and when Hermione stepped into the bayou, the murky water made her spine stiffen even more. Her trousers did little in the ways of protection, and waters such as these weren't known for being kind.

Hermione didn't see any slithering, belly-crawling reptilians, but that didn't mean they wouldn't come.

"You're going to have to go farther," Frack said from behind her. He was ten feet behind her, two men on each side of him. All of them stood uncaring in the downpour, their expensive suits soaked and clinging.

She let out a quiet, nervous breath, and she replied, "I'm still not entirely sure what exactly you want me to do if you didn't bring me here to kill me."

"I told you, my dearest. I have a present for you. It's in there. Close to you. Step out farther. _Feel_."

She swallowed and did as he suggested, her feet sinking into the soft, malleable earth. Knee deep, she felt an unnatural hardness beneath her soles. Like metal. She stilled and looked over her shoulder.

"Did you find it?" asked Frack.

Her jaw ticked. "I think so."

"Good," he purred. "Now here's the tricky part. You're going to have pull it to the bank. There should be a handle on the side."

"The side," she said and sank down, her hands blindly palming the metal surface. They dropped off from it, and she could make out more of the shape. It was, indeed, a box of some sort. She curled her fingers around what must've been the handle and tried to find her footing, so she could pull.

It didn't even budge.

"It's too heavy!" she yelled.

One of Frack's men joined her in the water, passing her and using his foot to find what he was looking for before plunging his arms beneath the surface. He lifted and so did she, and they heaved the box to the bank where Hermione got a better look at it. The box was covered in swamp and large enough to encase a body. Gnaw marks from creatures scarred the sides, close to the latchet.

Hermione let go of the handle, her heart beating fast from the little exercise and she bent over, resting her hands on her knees. She raised her gaze at Frack and asked, breathless and angry, "What's in there?"

"Not what. _Who_." He unlocked the latch with his wand. "Open it."

She contemplated the swamp, wondering if it was best to cut her wrist and jump in, attracting carnivorous creatures to come fetch and eat her. It was almost better than all of this. The death would be slow and arduous given her unique circumstances, but did she even mind at the moment? It was alligators versus Frack. In comparison, she knew the first would show more mercy than the latter.

Had Nott wanted her to die? She had to question it. Had the job hardened him so that he sent her to her death out of spite for her mistake all those years ago? He hadn't forgiven her, even a little?

"No." She shook her head, her throat constricting.

A _Crucio_ to her side had her doubling over, and she screamed in agony. When the pain subsided, she glared at Frack who raised his wand in warning. It made her think of he took from her. The one that was tucked away in his breast pocket.

"Open it," Frack repeated.

Hermione closed her eyes and looked up at the sky for strength and circled the box, lifting the lid and throwing it open before the smell blinded her. The stench was horrid, and she gagged, dry heaving into the mud. She caught sight of what was in the box and knew it was a body. Pieces of a body. The person had not been whole when stuffed inside.

When her stomach calmed, she spat the last of her bile and asked, "Who is it?"

"Ah, I worried you would not recognize him. I didn't even recognize him when I put him there. He was meaty and gooey. Looks like he didn't bother changing." Frack chuckled and then his features morphed into a façade of pity. "It's Draco Malfoy."

The air left her lungs, and she snarled at Frack. "You're lying!"

Frack threw something at her, and it landed by her feet. It was a small white ferret figurine and was covered in blood spatters.

"That was on him when I killed him. It came tumbling out of his pocket like it was trying to get away, too."

Hermione crouched down and picked up the trinket, holding it close to her chest.

Nott did not send her to be killed after all.

She stroked the tiny figurine fondly.

A sad, forlorn smile quirked her lips and she brushed the tip of her finger beneath the figurine's belly and plucked out the white cork, a wand sliding into her awaiting hand and free from the invisible extension charm where it'd been kept hidden for over fifteen years. She gripped it and grinned coldly at Frack.

To Be Continued...


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: *Sigh* Holy Guacamole, it's here. So let's do a recap. Loki left. Hermione's angry and self destructive. Nott sent her to Louisiana to kill Frack. Frack showed her Draco's remains, and we left her kind of pissed off. Let's see what she did about it, shall we? ;)**

 **And let's see if Loki makes a cameo this chapter? Gosh darn it, that man's cutie pie face will be the death of me. *swoons***

 **Apologies for any errors.**

 **Behold, Chapter 11!**

* * *

Cold fingers wiped at her cheek, and Hermione opened her eyes in time for a puff of cigarette smoke to climb right into the sockets. She inhaled the scent and coughed, her vision darting around to finally settle and absorb Nott crouching over her.

"Can you move?" he said.

Hermione stared dully at him.

Nott pinched his cigarette between his teeth and swiveled his gaze on the mud surrounding her, his expression troubled. His thumb and fingers reached at the deep laceration slanted below her jaw and stretching to the middle of her clavicle. She saw his throat bob, and his brown eyes narrow.

"Pucey! Davies! Get over here!" he barked.

"Who do you reckon this is?" Hermione heard Tracy ask, and she forced her head to turn and see the woman gesturing to Malfoy's remains in the metal box.

"I have a hunch," Nott replied shortly. "Now let us focus on Granger, shall we? Grab me your essence of dittany."

Hermione's vision blurred as Tracy squelched her way closer through the mud and knelt down. She heard the woman gasp and then swear colorfully.

"Holy shit! How much should I use?" The sound of hands diving into a leather satchel filled Hermione's ears.

Determined, angry hands shredded her shirt, and she heard Pucey say from a distance, "Use it all!"

Passed the three bodies hunched over her, Hermione watched two large ravens circle each other in the sky far above them until she succumbed to a deep level of unconsciousness. It wasn't sleep and was long lasting and like she'd been trapped. There were times she wanted to wake up, especially when she felt as though she were being sucked into a hole and dropped from the sky.

When she woke up again, she was in a bed and feeling so much better. Physically, that is. Beside her was a rack looped with four IV bags, two of them clearly Blood Replenishing potion, and the other two clear liquids. Hermione thought back to the faces she saw at the bayou and called out for Nott, but it was Tracy who came running in, her eyes red and cheeks a bit puffy. For a second, Hermione thought the woman may've been crying over her, but immediately bagged that notion. They had never been chummy back in the day. Tracy was clearly shedding a few over Malfoy. She…They must know by now.

"How're you feeling?" asked Tracy, coming over to assess the progress of the IV bags. "Do you feel tingly? It's the Blood Replenishing potion and the saline."

Hermione touched the bandages over her neck and clavicle, and Tracy leaned over to gingerly peel it back little by little. She smiled bitterly when the soiled bandages were off. "There's no scar. It's gone, the wound." She gave Hermione a sympathetic look. "So are the whipping lacerations on your back. I'm a miracle worker. I prove again I'm just as good at saving lives as I am taking them."

Hermione licked her dry lips and said hoarsely, "I'm sorry."

Tracy tossed the bandage in the rubbish bin nearby. "We knew he was gone, Granger." She started a non-purposeful pace. "But Frack is dead. You did it." She inhaled and nodded. "And you lived, even though none of us know how. Your wounds should've killed you. You were _literally_ marinating in your own blood by the time we got there. The Slicing Hex you suffered _ripped_ your carotid and made ribbons of your torso. You should see your _hair_."

Hermione sighed, her focus falling to the side on the clock on the bedside table, reminding her she had two hours until she needed to be at Le Bernadin.

Like it mattered at this point.

"And how'd my Slicing Hex do?" Hermione asked flatly. "My _Sectusempra_?"

Tracy stopped her pacing, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. She stared at Hermione for a while before saying, "It took his head off."

A butcher she was, indeed.

"How'd Nott find me?"

"The ferret."

"The ferret," Hermione repeated, thinking back to the figurine. "I gave Malfoy that ferret fifteen years ago. How was Nott able to track me with it?"

"Because _one_ year ago, Theo charmed it to when the spare wand was unhidden, it would alert him, letting him know Draco was on his Plan B and would likely need an extraction as soon as possible."

Gnawing on her bottom lip, Hermione felt unshed tears prick at her eyes. She'd given Malfoy that figurine as a good luck charm back when they were in Auror training at the academy as a peace offering and an attempt of friendship like her therapist instructed her to do at the time.

" _Make a friend to someone you wouldn't imagine befriending, Miss Granger,"_ Healer Shang requested shrewdly. _"Maybe someone who may have been on the opposing side of the war. If you are looking to be an Auror, I suggest you go forth with forgiveness. You will progress in the academy with resentment and hostility, and you will take that into the field. Don't make the job personal. It'll get ugly if you do. So do as I'm telling you and forgive at least one person who may've wronged you. I want to hear all about your attempt next week, all right?"_

Hermione put a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I want that ferret. Where is it?"

"I'm sure Theo has it."

"I also want my wand."

"Theo got it off Frack."

"I'd like to go. Are we back in New York?" Hermione kicked off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed, glowering sadly at the needle shoved into the crease of her arm. She looked at the bags, one of them empty and the others three-quarters gone before yanking the IV out of her vein.

"We're at Theo's flat," said Tracy, "and there's no way he's going to let you leave without a debriefing."

Hermione stood up and then braced herself against the bedside table until she regained her equilibrium. "I quit, therefore, no debriefing. I don't have to."

"You can't just quit."

"I wasn't even technically hired. It was a test, and I passed it. Yay me, but I changed my mind. I don't really want to be Nott's bitch again. It was too silly the first time around. I don't know what I was thinking." Hermione walked by Tracy and into the hallway. She came to the sitting room and off into the corner was a spiral stairwell which she climbed. It led to another sitting room, this one smaller and more of a casual loft. There was a set of double doors in between two large bookcases, and she opened one of them, pursing her lips when seeing Nott arguing in French with his ignited hearth behind his desk.

Hermione knew a 'debriefing' would have to wait. Despite experiencing which would most likely be the third or fourth worst day of her life, Hermione had personal affairs to take care of. Later, she'd deal with this whole thing later. She'd speak with Nott later. She'd mourn Draco Malfoy later. Right now, she had to save her friendship with Jane.

She had to pretend she didn't spend the majority of the night tied to a whipping post where Frack whipped her and his lackeys shot _Crucio_ after _Crucio_ at her. She had to pretend they didn't drag her from that filthy room and into another while she was forced to watch a gang-raping and murder of a teenage girl. She had to pretend she hadn't unearthed the pieces of a former friend.

After dinner, though, Hermione would stop pretending.

Tracy pulled a black case out of her satchel that lay on the dresser of the room Hermione woke up in. She unzipped it and plucked out a pair of scissors, opening and closing the shears. "You can't go out in public with your hair the way it is."

One of Frack's Slicing Hex blows had shorn off a third of her hair at a much shorter length, starting at the right side. Hermione sat on a chair in the middle of Nott's guest bathroom while Tracy cut and cut and cut and cut. When she finished, Hermione looked in the mirror and touched the ends of her tresses that fell about three inches below her chin.

"I may have got carried away," Tracy confessed, sighing softly.

Hermione cast an observant eye on the woman through the mirror, taking in her flushed face and bloodshot retinas. Her hands shook as she tidied up the stray hairs of Hermione's shorn do, and her chest stuttered. Finally, Hermione asked, "How long were you and Draco a thing?"

Tracy paused for a millisecond and then continued on with the shears. "We weren't."

"Why not?"

"Because," Tracy cleared her throat, her lips pursing, "he was in love with someone else."

Hermione frowned, troubled.

Setting down the scissors and Hermione was ever so glad, Tracy went rifling through the cabinets and drawers for something, revealing a canister of pomade. "You know he went looking for you after he found out you and Weasley divorced. Couldn't find you. Anywhere. Heard through the grapevine you went to Norway. Lice-combed it and still couldn't find you."

A mixture of exasperation, hurt, and sorrow hit Hermione in the chest like a car trapped on the tracks at a very unfortunate time. Sharply, she replied, "He shouldn't have come looking."

Tracy's mouth cinched shut tightly, like she wanted to say something but was doing her best to hold it in. From the narrowed look in her eyes, Hermione gathered it was something born out of resentment and wanted to tell her that Malfoy was too complicated of a fellow to defend, even in death.

"Can I ask you something?" Tracy said, albeit forceful, her pomade fingers yanking at Hermione's locks. "Why didn't you go to him after your divorce?"

Hermione stared, lips parted in surprise. Eventually, she was able to find her words. "It didn't even cross my mind."

From Tracy's expression, she didn't believe Hermione and that was fine.

"All right," the woman said after a few seconds. "Then I'll ask why you rejected him in the first place when you had clearly loved him."

"Davies!"

"Everyone in the office knew how you two felt about each other, Granger. After what happened in New Orleans, it was obvious."

Hermione pulled away from Tracy's violent fingers and stood up from the chair, turning to glare at her. "He was my partner. My friend. That is why I blew the entire operation."

"That job with Interpol was meant for _one_ person, and you demanded he be hired, too, right alongside you. You fought for him all through the academy and training. You nearly died for him on that mission. You _loved_ him, and you knew it then and you know it now. Why did you say no when he couldn't take just being your friend anymore?"

"I'm not going to talk about this with you." Hermione brushed the gobs of hair from her shoulders and walked briskly out of the bathroom and towards the closet, throwing the doors open, unsure of what she'd find. She needed clothes. Nice clothes for that stupid dinner at the ridiculously expensive restaurant with Jane and her looney band of acquaintances. Hermione unzipped one of the garment bags and peered inside. "These must be yours."

"They're for all Nott's agents. Each guest room is stocked with miscellaneous outerwear. They're for the field." Tracy huffed and shook her head while Hermione tossed the garment bag on the bed and went digging through the drawers in search of underwear. "Nott's going to explode if you leave without the debrief."

"I have somewhere I have to be." Hermione shirked the robe and donned knickers, a bra, and a pair of black, sheer tights.

"More important than the debrief?"

"No, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't go." Tugging the dress over her head, she dove into the floor of the closet and searched for a pair of shoes, coming up with a pair of black pumps. She took them with her into the bathroom and tossed them on the rug by the sink, examining her reflection while her hands searched blindly for a makeup bag. When she found one, she set it on the counter and looked Tracy who stood in the doorway, a disapproving scowl on her face. "Are your hands still shaking? How badly now?"

Tracy showed her hands, and there was a slight tremble. Hermione studied her own and said, "I need you to do my makeup, please. You can tell Nott I'll be back late tonight. He'll believe me because he'll still have my wand. I'll tell him everything that happened."

Tracy let out a ragged breath and shrugged one shoulder, exhaustion visibly overtaking her. "All right, but you could just apply a glamour."

Hermione looked at her shaking hands again. "I don't think I can right now. At least not a strong enough one."

After Tracy applied Hermione's makeup, she dug through the bathroom drawers again and found a silver hairclip and fastened Hermione's hair halfway.

"There. You look like an _alive_ human being now. Are you going on a date?" Tracy's tone was resentful and mildly disgusted.

"I'm salvaging my friendship with my cousin by dining with her _friends_. I said some regrettable things to her before I left for Louisiana."

Lips pursed unpleasantly, the other witch replied, "Can't it wait?"

"Probably, but if I'm being truthful, I'd like to see her as soon as possible after the night I had." Hermione sent Tracy a shrewd look. "I'm not leaving the city."

"You wouldn't get far if you did. Nott would find you."

Hermione nearly made a faux pas by reminding her how Malfoy couldn't, but it was too soon. For both of them. She'd hurt Tracy and herself by saying such words.

On the dot, Hermione arrived at Le Bernardin, spotting Jane in the waiting area. Jane caught her stare and gaped, her eyes bulging at the sight of her cousin.

"Your hair, oh my God." Jane went towards Hermione, her hands on her mouth, perplexed. _"Why?"_

"Does it look bad?

"It's so short. I don't even know what to think except how your mom is going to kill you. Did you do this in Boston?" Jane then gestured to Hermione's LBD. "And this?"

"I got the job. Thought I'd do something…I don't know really." Hermione shrugged, her wince turning into a pained grin. Her features then sobered. "I don't think I'll take it."

In the baby sling around Jane's torso, Daphne cooed and her mother absentmindedly rubbed her head. "You don't look like yourself," she said quietly. "It's not _bad_."

Hermione ducked her chin. "I'm sorry about what I said last night and for leaving so abruptly. With _him_ gone and life moving forward, I wanted to be distracted."

"Were you?"

Taking a moment to reflect on her night, she then replied, "Being in that environment again, as ridiculous as it sounds, I realized there are worse feelings than a broken heart. I was _overwhelmingly_ distracted. From the moment I hung up the phone last night until now, I hadn't thought about Loki at all." Hermione cast a cautious gaze on Jane. "And I don't know if I'm quite ready for that."

"Well," Jane started lightly, linking her arm through Hermione's and guiding them by the maitre d, "I know the wounds are still fresh, and I could lecture you on how he's not worth your thinking time, but I won't. I will say you _should_ consider working again. Maybe not with Interpol if you really don't want to be that busy but with something that…Hey, why don't you go back to school?"

"School," Hermione repeated, testing the word on her tongue and finding it rather abstract. "We'll chat about this later."

Unlike Jane, Thor complemented Hermione on her hair, though she suspected he was merely politely addressing the change.

Stark, Pepper, Thor, and a man who Hermione recognized as Captain America were already seated at a table. From the way the three were seated, it was clear Jane was right in saying Stark and Pepper planned to set their friend up with her. Hermione would have to sit by him. When she caught his apprehensive, blue-eyed look of inquiry, the tension in his shoulders visibly relaxed though the caution never quite left his expression.

Mr. Steve Rogers was relieved she wasn't hideous, but he wasn't interested.

Ever the gentleman, however, he stood up from the table which made her smile, albeit rather weakly, and offer his hand. She took it, shaking it gently while he introduced himself.

"Steve Rogers," he said firmly.

"Hermione Granger."

She felt his hand still.

"I wasn't aware you're English," he explained. "I met Jane earlier today and assumed you were American."

"Yeah, he was going to bring an adorable mini replica of his shield as a gift for you. Told him to leave at it home," Tony quipped. "Didn't say why. By the way, your hair, Hermione, I just can't."

"I wasn't," Steve hurriedly said.

"Your hair is super cute," Pepper said.

Hermione dipped her chin at Pepper in gratitude and then turned her attention back to Steve Rogers. "It…would have been a strange gift, but I'm not opposed to red, white, and blue, Mr. Rogers. They are my colors, as well." She sat down on her chair, and he surprised her by helping her scoot her chair. "I'd somehow make do with the star."

Rogers sat down, fiddling with his bowtie. It was sort of askew, and Hermione contemplated adjusting it for him, but she wasn't feeling _that_ polite. The gesture may come off as flirty even and despite his handsomeness, she wasn't interested either.

A thick, potent layer of awkwardness started to settle. No one was talking and both Jane and Pepper seemed to be on the hopeful lookout for the waiter with the wine menu and complimentary bread. The only person who was sort of at ease was Tony who finally thought it a good time to take off his aviators.

"Well, Cap," he cleared his throat, "since you're not interested in the hot, usually mouthy woman I brought for you, and none of us can get the luxury of watching you two kids fall in love, I guess we have to talk about Loki. Bummer."

"Not here," Pepper said hastily.

"I agree. Let us wait," Thor said.

"Fine. We'll talk about _James Buchanan Barnes_."

Pepper covered her face, hanging her head and shaking it.

"Tony," Steven hissed in warning.

"I just don't feel our previous conversations were all that informative regarding your pal," Tony said innocently. "Have you found him yet?"

"What are you two talking about?" asked Thor.

In the space of fifteen seconds, the mood at the table went from awkward to on edge, and Hermione contemplated grabbing Jane by the arm and hauling her out of the restaurant before it decided to not hold the rising testosterone levels. Thankfully, the tone was taken back a margin when the waiter arrived with the wine menus and promises to bring whipped, sweetened butter and freshly baked bread.

Once the waiter left their table with their wine and drink orders, Pepper jumped in by asking, "So, Hermione, I heard you had a job interview in Boston with _Interpol_. How'd it go?" before anyone else could speak.

Hermione now wished the waiter had never come.

"She was offered it," Jane answered, her smile small but proud.

"That's wonderful, Hermione," said Thor. "When will you start?"

Tony held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! _Interpol? Her?_ "

Sitting back in her seat, Hermione said nothing and tuned out while Jane defended her while Tony poked fun. Soon the table was in uproar again, four against one while the fifth—the subject of the argument—went to grin gratefully at the waiter pouring wine into her glass and froze when seeing Nott glaring murderously down at her. He leaned downward far enough to whisper, "In five minutes, you're going to excuse yourself to the ladies' room," and then carried on pouring wine in the other patrons' glasses.

Five minutes later, the argument was still going, though not has heated and about something else entirely. Something about shields and hydras. Hermione excused herself, but only Jane vaguely noticed.

Hermione didn't quite make it to the lavatory. She was in the hallway, the door in sight, when she was grabbed from behind and felt the uncomfortable tug beneath her navel. Her surroundings spun and changed, stabling in an office. They were facing a desk with an inflamed hearth behind it and a rather grotesque and crude painting of Hogwarts resting above the mantle.

"I was coming back," she growled out, wriggling out of Nott's hold which proved to be pointless, for he slammed her body on the rug beneath their feet, knocking the wind out of her. His forearm pressed into her sternum, and he bore his entire weight on her body.

"You _never_ leave before the debrief!" he snarled.

"I had somewhere to be. I was coming back, you arse." She coughed, air becoming an issue.

"I saw your friends. Are you barking mad? Mixing yourself with that lot? You abandoned your debrief to put yourself and our world in danger!"

"You're one to talk. You bloody Disapparated where anyone could've seen."

Nott bared his teeth; however, the effect was lost when his glasses slid off his face and pelted her on the forehead before falling to the floor. She frowned, no longer struggling to get out from under him. It was all rather irritating, him crushing her into his priceless, Middle Eastern rug, but this wasn't really about her ditching the debrief.

"I'm sorry about Draco," she said.

He brought his head down farther, his nose touching hers. "Are you?"

If someone were to walk in on them in such a state, Hermione knew what would be going through their heads. That person may think a scandalous scene had just greeted them. On the contrary, Hermione was truthfully unperturbed by Nott's unorthodox proximity in order to get his point across, and she suspected the last thing on his mind right now was anything carnal. Guessing on his level of sorrow and anger, she could grab his hand and force it on her breast, and he'd respond by breaking her wrist.

"He was my friend, too, once," she reminded.

"Once," he said. "A part of you must be thinking how he deserved to die."

"You want to fight, don't you, Theodore? You're so angry." Her hand reached into his vest and pulled out his wand, touching the tip of it to her temple and extracting a liquid-y wisp. Nott stared at it, and she said, "Perhaps this will get you by until my evening is over."

"What is it?"

"Frack's death." She waved the wand to and fro teasingly, her expression anything but. "Go on. Take it."

Nott stole back his wand and got off her, darting to his desk and grabbing an empty vial from his drawer. The memory billowed inside the tiny glass, and he corked it, focus trained on his prize.

"I'll expect your return before eleven," he said. "I'll hunt you down and make a scene if you don't." He gave her a wicked sideways glance. "And you won't like it."

Hermione Apparated to the restaurant and the table where she was promptly ignored as was Jane so it seemed. The men and Pepper were still on the subject of shields and hydras but had apparently added furies to the mix while Hermione had left.

The tone quieted when their meals arrived, and no one seemed keen on ordering dessert. On the taxi ride to Stark Tower, Mr. Steve Rogers must've pitied her, for he joined her. He even hailed the cabbie and opened the door for her and then joined her.

"Tony's found a closet for me to sleep in," he explained and then shot her an apologetic grimace. "I want to apologize for my behavior earlier. I don't want you to think bad about me, but I also don't want to give you the wrong impression. You seem like a great girl."

"I don't think bad about you. I'm also not offended you don't fancy me." She cocked her head to the side. "I do have to point out you didn't even try to get to know me tonight."

Mr. Steve Rogers surprising cracked a smile at her words. "Neither did you."

"You're the man. It's your job to initiate."

"So you're old fashioned." He nodded, both enlightened and amused. "I can respect that."

"I imagine you can." Hermione bit her lip and considered him, her eyes resting on his face. "I didn't want to make things weird in there, but my grandfather was a POW in Rosano. Thank you. For saving his life."

"Your grandpa served in World War II?"

Hermione nodded, her expression turning queer. "So did Jane's on her father's side. It was a _thing_."

"Now I know this can't work out," Mr. Steve Rogers said lightly. "I'm old enough to be your grandpa."

"Nothing has to work out, Mr. Rogers, or even start. I'm probably more uninterested in courting than you are," she said somberly. "If you're staying at Mr. Stark's for a while, I wouldn't mind befriending the man who saved my grandfather. He told me stories of you, you know? Nothing too detailed. The war had been a very unhappy experience for him, but he spun fanciful tales of a ridiculously dressed man who was so brave, it mattered not what he wore."

Mr. Steve Rogers smile was touched and genuinely happy. When Hermione returned the sentiment, it hurt, and she was remembered it may be too soon to feel such positivity. A man she hated who loved her was dead, and she was devastated.

Hermione wished for Loki as stupid as it was and loathed the idea of seeking solace in Nott. If Loki were within tangibility, she could talk to him. Be free with him. He hadn't minded her secrets.

Or at least he pretended not to mind.

Insides shuttering from the need to wrack from a good sob, Hermione swallowed the gall in her throat. She was having a very bad month and like Nott, she was angry beyond reason. With Frack. With Nott. With Draco. With Loki. The last two were heavily competing with each other, and Hermione knew there was no dignity in despising the dead, but good God, leave it to Malfoy to rile her up, even in death.

"Something wrong?"

Hermione sighed. She failed in schooling her features and had carelessly allowed her inner turmoil to surface, and Mr. Steve Rogers noticed. Lovely. She imagined spewing out something along the lines of, "I know we don't know each other well enough for me to confide in you. Truthfully, I should be telling Jane this and likely will in time. While I was in Boston this morning, I found out someone I knew very well had passed away. A few years ago, he'd done something to upset me a great deal and lead to unfortunate life-experiences for both of us. I hated him for it, but now that he's gone, I'm quite downtrodden. I also witnessed a young girl gang-raped, tortured, and murdered last night."

Oh, Mr. Steve Rogers really had no idea.

* * *

A quarter to eleven, Hermione Apparated into Nott's office. He was sitting at his desk, Hermione's wand and Malfoy's ferret in front of him. She grabbed the former and touched the tip of it to her temple, gingerly extracting a much longer memory wisp than before.

"Consider this my debrief," she said while Nott pulled out a vial from his drawer. She poured the memory into it, and he capped it. He sat back in his chair, his fingers fiddling with the vial.

"Are you sure you want to part with them?"

"I don't want the job."

Nott's grin was eerie and unnerving. "I don't accept your resignation."

"I was never really hired."

He set the vial on the table and stood up, buttoning his blazer. "Every morning, you're to run five miles. Every night before you go to sleep, you're to do thirty minutes of Pilates, thirty minutes of tai chi, an hour of offensive and defensive spells with and without your wand. You are to avoid dairy, desserts, and dating. You will under no circumstance allow a white flour-based item on your tongue. You will keep alcohol consumption at a minimum as you will caffeine. One cup of coffee in the morning _post_ run. A cuppa in the afternoon. Every Sunday morning at six, you're to be here where you are to verify your progress. You walked on the Frack job, it's time for you to learn to crawl again."

"I'm not going to work for you. I've made up my mind."

"I've reopened your previous account. I know a guy. Your money should be there in a few hours. It's a handsome sum. Only the best for the one who offed Frack. I'll admit. Not all of it's from me. Mother England and these Yanks wanted to show their appreciation, as well."

"I'm not cut out to be a hit witch anymore. In the park, everything you said was right, Theodore," she said, her voice quivering.

He circled the desk and shoved his hands into his trousers. "Hermione, are you really going to prove me right? _Now?_ When you've come so close persuading me you're actually worth vouching for? You killed Gellous Frack. A man who made Tom Riddle look like an unfortunate case of body odor. You did it on your own. You probably suffered a great deal before you got your shot to finish it, and here you are standing in front of me fourteen hours after discovering Draco's body. You're sullen. Perhaps in need of good cry, but you're standing. You're showing me you are strong, so don't let Frack be the monster who broke you. Don't give him the satisfaction. There would be no greater dishonor to Draco if you did."

Hermione opened her mouth, yet no word was uttered. She was incapable of speech, and it felt like Nott was crushing her again. She couldn't breathe. He pinched her chin to get her attention and then cupped her shoulder and guided her into a hug. Her breath hitched, and he shushed her.

"Don't cry," he ordered gently.

"Please."

His chin rested on her head. "No."

* * *

Bending her knees and resting her palms on her knees, Hermione gasped for air, sweat pouring out of her. She unzipped her long sleeved running top a fraction to let the cool air work its magic. She looked at her watch and sighed in disappointment. She'd done worse than the previous day, damn it! It took her an hour to run five miles and yesterday it had been fifty-five minutes.

It might've been the stroller.

Daphne whimpered. She was having a swimmingly good time propelling forward at a decent speed.

Hermione caught a whiff of something fresh and wonderful and stood to see the bagel cart twenty or so feet away. The vendor has tormented her daily for the past few days with his all white-flour based bagels and homemade cream cheese.

She smelled the blueberry ones, and her mouth watered.

Said vendor lifted said bagel up in the air by a wax sheet and called out to her. "Bagel?"

Daphne made an 'oooo' sound.

"They're pretty good, you know," said Steve, stopping at her side looking aggravatingly pristine in his tight shirt and jogging pants. The only thing blemished about him were his scuffed Nike trackers.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, straightening.

"Same thing you are."

"This is my route."

"It's a good one."

"Central Park is huge. Can't you find another?"

Steve shot her a confused look, and she realized she was being defensive and rude for not bloody reason. Hadn't she wanted to be his friend? And he was probably the nicest out of all the Avengers, though, she'd only met three. "I'm sorry. Of course you can run wherever you please. I'm just…insanely jealous how un-sweaty you are."

Steve chuckled and scratched his neck sheepishly. "Truth is, Hermione, Thor asked me to follow you."

" _Oh_."

"He doesn't like you running alone. He knows New York City is dangerous enough without the Chitauri flying in for a visit."

"I can take care of myself."

"You also have his daughter with you this morning."

"I can take care of her, too."

"Hey, I'm just doing a favor for a friend, and he has the right to worry. You're his family." Steve's boyish features lit up in a grin. "I'm not going to stop looking out for you. Even if I have to run super slow to keep in stride."

Hermione scoffed and rolled the pram to the nearest bench, propping foot up on it to stretch. Over her shoulder, she watched Steve smile goofily at Daphne who crooned flirtatiously up at him

"She's a knock out," he commented. "Thor's going to have his hands full when she starts liking boys."

"She might like girls."

Steve laughed and dropped his head. "Yeah, she might. I forget about things, sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. I was just being smart with you. Of course Thor will be an overprotective father when it comes to his daughter courting."

"Yeah, it won't help she'll have the Avengers as uncles."

Hermione chose to not disclose that all of them, with the exception of Thor, would be dead long before Daphne reached courting age. It'd ruin the moment. According to Eir, there would come a time where Daphne's growth would start to slow significantly. Eir theorized in her pre-adolescent years, but it was anyone's guess. Hermione had done some research of her own and discovered Daphne to not be the first bi-species child in Asgardian history. However, each individual's physical and mental development varied, and there hadn't been enough of them at once to study.

Steve gestured at Daphne, asking Hermione, "Can I?"

"If you can figure out how to get her out of it, then sure."

Fifteen seconds later. "What in the world?" grunted Steve, yanking on Daphne's straps.

"They're supposed to be childproof, but I think if we wrapped the entire planet in these straps, we'd never get invaded again."

Finally, Steve managed to unbuckle Daphne from the pram and scooped her out. She was bundled and warm in her thick, puffy coat and tiny boots. Hermione retrieved a bottle from the case beneath the handles and handed it to Steve. He tucked Daphne in one arm and positioned the bottle with the other. He shrugged at her, his lips quirking. "I watched Jane and Thor do it a couple of times."

"You're doing fine," she said, propping her other leg up and looking around. The hairs on the back of her neck had just sprang up. They were being watched. Beside a tree, at least a meter away, a man stared in their direction. He wore faded jeans and a baseball cap. His hair was dark and long, coming to his shoulders, and Hermione frowned when seeing something metallic poking out of the sleeve of his burly winter coat.

"What are you looking at?" Steve followed her line of sight. "Bucky," he whispered and shoved Daphne into her arms to go running after the man standing by the tree.

Hermione went to call after him when she heard, "Bagel?" from behind her. She whipped around and saw Loki dressed as the bagel man. Her heart jerked up in her throat, and she tried yelling at Steve, his name falling silent on her lips. She touched her throat and glared balefully at her former lover.

"Look at him run," Loki said gleefully. "He's so excited, he's practically wetting himself in anticipation."

Steve made it to the man and went to touch his shoulders but flickered and then evaporated out of existence. He stepped back, shocked and the snapped his head up to see Hermione and the bagel man beside her whose clothing morphed into a leathery and metallic concoction of black and green.

"Hermione!" he yelled.

Loki curled his fingers around the hairs which had fallen from Hermione's ponytail and yanked. Hermione had no choice but lean his way to avoid pain. "Put the child in its pram," he ordered.

With his hands still gripping her hair, he allowed Hermione to bend and put Daphne in her stroller. Literally, a second she was standing at the top of a rocky, snow-covered hill that sloped down into a rugged valley that inclined to a mountain on the other side. She shivered, the cold air and snow attacking her like being slapped all over with pinpricks. She felt the magic around her vocal cords release, and she asked, "Where are we?"

"A not so great distance from a place called Nordkapp."

Hermione slapped him _hard_ , and it hurt her hand probably more than it did his face, but she didn't care. She didn't care one bit, the bastard!

"How dare you!" She slapped him again. "How dare you just _leave_! I could murder you, you revolting cockroach!" She shoved his shoulders, and he barely swayed. "I think I will." She pulled her wand from the strap beneath her sleeve and pointed it at his nose.

"Your hair is atrocious."

" _Reducto!"_

The spell's, hardly capable in harming the likes of him, had enough momentum to force him to lose his balance and topple backwards off the hill they stood on, but his reflexes were quick. He clasped her wrist, and they both toppled over. Rolling and sliding down the bumpy slope. Snow lodged its way into Hermione's mouth, up her shirt, down her running trousers, and her shoes. On the way down, she collided with Loki several times, bruising her hips and ribs. In the jumble of it, she spotted his dagger and pulled it from his sheath. When they're tumbling slowed at base of the slope, she used the momentum to land on top of him and press the blade to his throat.

"It was all a lie, wasn't it?!" she seethed.

Loki narrowed his eyes, remaining still beneath her and saying nothing.

"You disgust me! I can't believe the effort you put in. And all that time, you were married to someone else! I bet you were having a good laugh on the inside. I understand your endgame with leaving Asgard and finishing what you started with the Chitauri and whatnot, but what did I have to do with anything? What was I to you exactly?"

"It appears," he started, "my brother has tattled. Sigyn means nothing to me, Hermione."

"Neither of us do." It had all been lies, and the surprise should've worn off by now, but it hadn't. It stung. It still stung so badly. She'd loved him. She'd been all in. She scooted all her chips into the middle of the table and set down her cards and said 'to hell with it', and she got burned for it.

"You know that to be untrue," he murmured, moving his arm in an attempt to cup her face, and she flinched away from his touch.

"Do I? You gave me a ring knowing we couldn't marry. You even went so far as to push the idea of marriage on me, to make me want it, so it would be that more satisfying to you. You're not a trickster, Loki Odinson, you're sick. You corrupt the simplest, most beautiful things and make them nightmares because you get bored. You disgust me, and I'd like to think I had it easier than Sigyn. I can't imagine being stuck with you forever."

In a blink, Hermione was on her back and the dagger was tossed. Loki pinned her down and hissed, "You _are_ stuck with me forever! Whether or not we married, that apple will forever tie us together."

"It won't. I'm _not_ going to live forever, Loki." She swallowed and flared her nostrils. "Thor told me it can be reversed."

A complete and total lie but judging from Loki's reaction, there could be a counter to apple's doings.

"You won't go through with it. Not only will you lose your fertility, you'll be leaving Jane to the wolves. I'll make her miserable, I swear it. She and Daphne—"

Loki was cut off from a heavy shower of color hitting ground several feet away from them. Ice and dirt billowed out towards them, and Thor emerged from it, his jaw set and features grim. He hoisted Loki off Hermione who scrambled to her feet and hurriedly picked up her wand at the base of the slope.

Loki glared at Thor, his expression hostile and perplexed. Hermione caught his eye and unzipped the collar of her running pullover, revealing a pulsating piece of fiber-glass linked to a thick cord wrapped around her neck. "Tracking device," she said. "I anticipated you'd show sooner or later, and Jane made one for me just in case."

A brief flicker of betrayal washed over him but was quickly replaced by cocky bravado. He smirked and shrugged. "You'll regret handing me over, my dear Hermione."

"You will not threaten her, Loki," Thor warned.

"But it's a promise, brother," he said, his mirthful tone cold. "Alas, there's a chance she may not live to _see_. The abomination in her belly may very well end her existence despite her peculiarities. Slowly freezing to death from the inside cannot be a pleasant way to go."

Hermione ignored the side glance Thor sent her, keeping her face neutral and jaw set. He would not get a rise out of her just yet.

* * *

"There's got to be more. Are you sure there's not anything else you'd like to add, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione did not cower beneath the one-eyed gaze of the man called Director Fury. She kept her spine straight against the chair in Tony's dining room and her shoulders square. He did not intimidate her. He was a serious man and perhaps ruthless, but she'd dealt with far worse. Nott was her boss, after all.

"He appeared in Central Park and took me to Norway. That's it. We were gone for all of two minutes."

"A lot can happen in two minutes." Fury started to pace casually. "So why did he take you?"

"He harassed me in Asgard. Why should it be different here?"

Fury wasn't impressed with her answer. He wasn't impressed by this unnecessarily long interrogation. So far, she hadn't given him anything remarkable and neither had Thor.

"Director Fury," Hermione said, folding her arms, "I gave you all I have on this, so I'm going to ask _you_ a question. What do you think I'm not telling you?"

Fury placed his palms on the table, leaning forward, his gaze solid and steady. After a few beats, he said, "You can go."

Hermione left the area, passing the rec room and spotting Thor, Tony, and Steve at the mini bar. When Thor saw her, he jumped from his stool and rushed to her, asking, "Fury was not harsh with you, was he?"

"No. Just annoyed."

Steve appeared behind him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, thank you." She gnawed on her lips briefly. "Where is he being held?"

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Thor beat him to it. "Do not worry yourself with that. Go and see Jane. She's waiting for you."

She nodded and took the elevator down to Jane's and Thor's suite where her cousin was pouring over her disorganized pile of notes and photographs on the coffee table in the sitting room whilst nursing a mug of hot tea. When Jane noticed her, she set it down quickly and wryly commented, "Do you want go swing by a drug store?"

Frowning, Hermione sat down by Jane, sinking into the couch cushion and saying, "Thor just couldn't keep it to himself, could he?"

"We should go. Just in case."

"I'm not pregnant, Jane."

"I _know_ you haven't had your period yet."

"I'm not due for a couple of days."

"Aren't you at least a little bit worried? I would want to be sure."

Hermione sighed, exasperated. She hoisted herself back into a standing position. "All right. Let's go."

Throwing on a jacket and fastening a sleeping Daphne in her pram, they left the tower and walked the couple of blocks to the nearest drug store. While they considered the pregnancy tests on the shelves, Jane questioned Hermione on Loki's behavior.

"I still wonder what he planned to do with you." She picked up a box and read the back. "Do you think he was going to try and take you away for good?"

Hermione chose a box, too. "I don't know. Why would he stop in Norway if that were the case? Honestly, I think he just wanted to talk." She put the box back and picked another. "But I wasn't really in the mood. I was angry. Now I'm curious. I want to know where Thor took him. Did he tell you?"

Jane shook her head. "But I have a hunch, and if I'm right, it will be impossible for you to talk to him. And really? I don't think it's worth the fuss."

"Where would he be?"

"On the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier."

"And where would that be?"

"Hermione," Jane warned, scoffing. "No, okay? Just find yourself a stick to pee on, and we can move on. Here." She yanked Hermione's box away and shoved another into her chest. "This one is supposed to be error proof."

"As a scientist, you should know that's not poss...Oh, all right. Fine."

Back in Jane's loo, Jane sat on the toilet while Hermione sat on the ledge of the tub, the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter. Jane wrapped a lock of hair around her finger, chewing her lips and lost in thought while Hermione bounced her knee impatiently. There was still five minutes to go.

She wasn't worried.

Not one bit.

She and Loki hadn't been trying.

They hadn't been careful, either.

"What if it's positive?" blurted Jane.

Hermione stared.

"What are you going to do? Would an abortion work on it?"

Stare.

"And it would probably outlive you, like, several thousand years. I'll probably have to take care of it, won't I?" Jane nodded absentmindedly. "At least it'd be a girl. I don't think I could handle a son from Loki. A daughter from you, though…only a little less traumatizing."

"I'm doing this to give you peace of mind."

The five minutes were up, and Jane tacked the pregnancy test before Hermione could even get up from the tub's ledge. Her cousin tossed her a sheepish look and handed over the stick. Hermione took one look at it and then dropped it into the rubbish bin before Jane could see.

"What was it?"

Hermione stalked off, heading directly to the bar and finding a bottle of tequila on one of the racks. She uncapped it and drank straight from the bottle, some of the liquid spilling out and dribbling down her chin. The liquid burned, but she got a good amount down before setting it down loudly on the bar and announcing to Jane, "Loki tricked me into having an apple."

"What?"

"An Apple of Iðunn. Loki forced one on me a year ago. It's why I didn't die when King Alvid stabbed me."

A series of emotions wafted over Jane's face. _"What?"_

"And before then, I couldn't have kids. I never told you, but I couldn't. Looks like nothing's changed!" Hermione slammed her fist on the bar. "It's stupid, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. Jane, you have no idea how badly…"

She covered her face, muttering curses under her breath.

"You had an Apple of Iðunn," Jane said wasphisly. "You've been immortal all this time, and you didn't tell me?!"

"I don't want to talk about that. I want to talk to you about—"

"About what? More things you're keeping from me? How I'm not important enough for you tell me shit? I had to hear from _Thor_ about you and Loki. My husband _knew_ before I did. Do you even know how much that hurt me? Still, I didn't say a word about it. Now you're telling me you're immortal and have been for a whole year and that you couldn't have kids! I can't believe you! I can't fucking believe you! Is there anything else?"

Hermione winced. "I think I've given you enough ammo for the day."

Jane opened her mouth and then closed it, raising a hand. "You need to leave before I say something I can't take back."

"Fair enough," Hermione said quietly. Her confessing to Jane about that apple hadn't turned out at all like she hoped. She'd been hoping for a girl-to-girl, heartfelt conversation, and what she got was reality. She supposed Jane had every right to be angry. And Thor? Poor Thor. He was in for it the next time he saw Jane. Her being around them must be doing absolute wonders for their marriage.

In her own suite, she grabbed her purse and then left the tower, hailing a taxi and riding it to Nott's complex. She took the stairs and wrapped on his door. A young woman barely covered in sheets answered, and Hermione brushed by her nonplused.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, I forgot my key. I take it my husband's home," Hermione said.

"Your husband," the girl said, confused. Hermione placed her accent as Chechnya

Hermione sat down on the sofa chair in the sitting room. "I'll wait for him here."

"He said he was not married."

Hermione propped her elbow on the armrest and admittedly jerked at the sound of a gun firing and the sensation of warm spatters flicking her in the face. The young woman gasped and looked down at her ribs where a deep red circle appeared. It quickly spread and sloped downwards, and she crumpled to the ground. Nott stood a distance behind her, a pistol in hand.

"I hate guns. They're so Muggle," he said, setting the weapon on the book shelf beside him like it was contagious. "Granger, why didn't you kill her?"

"Her hair's different. I didn't recognize her at first."

"And when you did?"

"I thought you had plans for her. I wasn't going to intervene."

"Not intervene?" Nott chuckled. "It's all you do and have ever done. As punishment for your lack of insight, dispose of Miss Vankov for me."

Hermione revealed her wand and waved it over the late terrorist's body, transfiguring it into a sizeable polar bear rug. Nott shuffled over and stooped down, studying the new piece of furniture. "Huh. I kind of like it."

"I knew you would."

"I think I'll make it permanent."

Her lips quirked and she slumped in the chair. "Did you really sleep with her, Nott?"

"Davies did. I just watched."

"And that makes it so much better."

"If you wanted white ops, you should've run home to your precious Potter."

"But you have better alcohol, and I really need a drink."

"And I can tell you've had some. You remember the rules."

Hermione got up and darted to him, standing on the rug and grinning up at him. "You know how much I love breaking your rules."

"I thought you'd be a godsend when I hired you one. Good at following orders, said your file. You mucked something up from the day I hired you to the day I retired you."

"I think you should reevaluate your rules, Nott. They can make even the most valiant goody-goodies go mental and do something like introduce Casual Friday at the office." She grabbed his lapels. "I want a drink. Please. I'll let you _watch_."

"Watch you drink?" Nott laughed.

Hermione nodded.

"You get all weird when you drink tequila. I forgot."

"My cousin hates me."

"She must be the sensible one in the family."

"Ugh." Hermione let go of him and stomped off in search of the kitchen. She found it and bolted through the pantry swing door and started to investigate Nott's wine collection, all of them too fancy to bother getting drunk from. Soon, he joined her in the pantry, and she asked, "You still have contacts in Muggle intelligence, right?"

"What do you need?" he asked shrewdly.

"There's a hellicarrier that used to belong to Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. The agency isn't really government endorsed anymore, but the hellicarrier is still around, and I need a way in. Something of mine is on it and—"

"You want it back."

"…no…" Hermione blinked. "No. I just want to check up on it. It's better off where it is. I just want to keep tabs, is all. Another thing. I can't be detected while I'm on it."

Nott regarded her bemusedly, placing his hands on her shoulders to brush off invisible stray hairs and lint. "You'll have to do something for me." He then licked his thumb and rubbed at the specks of blood Miss Vankov left on her face.

"Oh, I don't doubt it."

He thumbed the tab of her zipper on her running pullover and jerked it open, exposing her sternum and her tracking necklace. He looped his fingers around the pendent and cord and tugged, forcing her closer to him. He bent his head way down to put his forehead to hers and said, "I want to meet your new friends."

To be Continued...


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: OMG, you guys aren't going to believe the last 6 weeks of my life! It's been one big UGH! On top of crazy life, this chapter was giving me nightmares. I'd write, erase, repeat. I had to sit down and really, _really_ think where I wanted this story to go and how quickly I wanted it to get there. Mentally, I had two bins (one a rubbish, the other for safekeeping) for subplots and anecdotes. As delighted as some of you are, there will be no other flashback in this story. I may post a one-shot prequel in the future, but time is money, and I want to get this baby done by, like, Christmas.**

 **To answer a few questions (but not all, sorry):**

 **No, Hermione is NOT pregnant-sorry, not sorry. It's quite possible Jane will find about Hermione being a witch before the story ends. We'll find out why Nott wants to meet the Avengers in this chapter. I killed Draco because I can ;). I will not be including Age of Ultron stuff-sorry Vision, it's me, not you. And we'll soon see what Loki's up to.**

 **And one more thing to add. I know some of my readers were probably upset by Jane's blowup on Hermione last chapter. In my humble opinion, Jane was in the right to be angry with Hermione. Let us remember that Hermione committed a lot of naughty/secret acts in the Asgard palace which _is_ Jane's home. No, Jane's not entitled to know everything about Hermione such as her fertility struggles, but she has a right to know what's going down on Jane's property which is why I wrote her as pissed. Because I would be. A lot of people would be. As cool as I tried to write Hermione, having one in real life would be a headache, yeah?**

 **Now on with Chapter 12!**

* * *

 _Nott thumbed the tab of her zipper on her running pullover and jerked it open, exposing her sternum and her tracking necklace. He looped his fingers around the pendent and cord and tugged, forcing her closer to him. He bent his head way down to put his forehead to hers and said, "I want to meet your new friends."_

Hermione gripped his wrist. "Careful with that. It's sensitive. The last thing you want is a Norse god demolishing your flat. He might get the wrong impression and decide to give you an unpleasant introduction to his hammer."

"Is it some next-gen rape whistle designed by Tony Stark."

"Sure." She untangled herself from Nott.

She left him in the pantry and found the nearest guest bedroom, deciding she'd very much like a shower and to put on some clean clothes. A while later as she towel-dried her hair, she joined Nott in his office, curling up on his leather sofa beneath a pricey landscape painting. "What are the updates regarding Malfoy?" she asked.

The pen in Nott's hand didn't so much as pause. "Adrian escorted the remains to forensics. They've been identified, and he's informed Draco's parents and ex-wife of his death. The date of the funeral is up in the air, though I imagine it will be a private affair. Immediate family and a handful of his closest friends." It was then that he set down his pen and leaned back in his chair. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and sighed. "But I reckon you didn't want to talk about that. It's not like you're going."

"I think I'd rather suffer Barcelona all over again."

Nott almost cracked a smile, tracing his pensively set mouth a finger. "Be honest with me, Granger. Did you love him?"

Hermione laid her head on the arm rest of the couch, her eyes settling on him in consideration. "He was valuable to me as a friend. We were partners in the field. _Great_ ones. We were friends outside of it. I was even considered for godmother for Scorpius, and I went to his christening. I loved, Draco, yes. I lost my job over him, yes. I was not _in love_ with him. I was happily married to someone else and up until Draco told me otherwise, I thought he was, too."

For whatever reason, Nott appeared rather displeased with her answer, and she rolled her eyes, shrugging. "Maybe if we hadn't married different people to begin with, I wouldn't have been so put off to his being in love with me. I probably would've been flattered and given him a chance, but it's silly to think that way. This leads me to say to that I know he went looking for me after he found out about my divorce. Was he working with you then?"

"He contacted me the day after you told him you hated him and regretted ever having anything to do with him."

She pursed her lips, nodding. "In my defense, he'd just told Ron we were having an affair, and I was planning to leave him which was bollocks. Malfoy was unstable, Nott. And Tracy told me he went looking for me once he caught wind of my divorce, so clearly he was still mental." She frowned at him. "You let him out in the field."

"Being sane is not a requirement for this job."

Hermione wondered if she, herself, was genuinely crazy and everyone pitied her too much to let her know. She studied Nott for several moments and then asked, "Why do you want to meet the Avengers?"

"I thought we were going to talk about Draco."

"By all means…" She arched her brows, an expectant expression on her face.

Nott pressed his palms into his eyes and then ruffled his hair. "It's not so much as me but Remington. I'll be having him one of these weekends, so he can set his room up for the summer, and Daphne may just get off my arse about my fathering skills if I do more than leave every knut to him when I eat the big one. Apparently, he's unsatisfied with the prospect of inheriting millions and actually wants me to give him something presently tangible. According to Daphne, he's rather taken with Dr. Bruce Banner."

"Really?" Hermione said, unconvinced.

"Not his alter ego, but the doctor. My son is academic, not catastrophic. Superheroes are novelty to him, but of little use in the grander scheme of things. He's fascinated by Dr. Banner's work and has read a great deal of his published work."

"Remington is nine, right?"

"Was your booklist any less impressive than my son's at age nine?"

"I'm not sure if I can score a meeting for him. As far as I know, Dr. Banner is not staying in the tower."

"He's bound to show eventually. Keep tabs. When he does show, let me know. Another thing." Nott lifted a finger. "Following mine and my son's meeting with them, you're to leave Stark Tower and disengage from the Avengers' huddle. You being there is too much of a risk, not only to our world, but who you are and what you're doing. The consequences are too high, if you're compromised."

"Jane—"

"Will be better off without you."

Hermione frowned, and Nott continued, "I don't know much of the dynamic between you and your cousin, but I know you love her very much which is why you're going to sever ties with her. Not just for your sake, but hers. I'm going to go out on a whim and assume your presence hasn't made her marriage easy. As one divorcee to another, what say you leave her be, so she can have a chance with her fella?"

"She asked me to stay—"

"Ask yourself what good has it done that you gave in."

Hermione _hated_ how Nott seemed to know everything about her when he knew absolutely nothing. She'd given him information on her last year but not details and with those bits, he could manufacture the most lethal weapon and slay her with it in a single bow. He didn't know about Loki, and he didn't have to. He didn't have to know everything to destroy a person. He just had to know enough.

Swallowing, Hermione asked in a barely audible whisper, "Where would you station me?"

"You and Pucey will do magnificent work together until I tire of your face. After that, I'll probably send you to Israel to lend a hand over there in the Middle East."

"Pucey," Hermione repeated, folding her arms. "Pucey loathes me, and isn't he Davies' partner?"

"Davies is going to Kuwait. Following Draco's funeral, she'll return for her things and catch a portkey. Her assignment will last eighteen months, and then she'll return."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Does Davies know this?"

Nott scratched his bottom lip with this thumb nail. "Does it matter? She does what I tell her."

That's how it was with Nott. Unyielding obedience. His orders, his words were gospel. Blatant disregard was a sure way of being sacked. When he would get sick of her face as he so eloquently told her, he would order her to Israel, and she would have to go.

In many ways, he was her master and perhaps she was crazy to resume her position as his slave, but Theodore Nott was effective in his post. His interest laid in cutting the heads off the big monsters and not bothering to step on the smaller criminals. If he wanted, he could steam clean the crime bosses of New York City, of Chicago and London. On the contrary, he had a more global perspective, and he did well in finding the worst of the worst who needed to be eliminated. He could find anybody or anything and had often fed both magical and Muggle intelligence agencies information in finding number one 'undesirables' when he hadn't an agent to spare to take care of the job.

Hermione would never call Nott a good man, but he was a great one.

Several days later, Hermione had ducked out of New York City in favor of snagging a portkey to London and from there, another to Wiltshire. The weather there couldn't decide what it wanted to be. One moment, it rained. The next, the sun broke through the clouds with a warmish breeze. When she reached the cemetery where Malfoy lay, it was sprinkling, though she could see the sun stretching the clouds thin above her.

The burial of her former partner and friend had taken place hours before, so Hermione was surprised when she saw a lone figure standing outside one of the Malfoy mausoleums. Hermione paused by a tree, partially obscuring herself from the woman who stared hollow-eyed at the stone structure.

"I know you're there," said Astoria. The woman looked over and met Hermione's apprehensive gaze.

"I can leave," Hermione said.

Astoria shrugged and looked at the mausoleum's door again. "I buried my ex-husband," she said. "Do you want to know what it felt like?"

Hermione wanted to respond by asking a similar question. 'Would you like to know how it felt when I found your ex-husbands remains?'

She didn't though.

The other witch dropped her focus to her black boots and shakily told Hermione, "I loved him, you know. Even when he couldn't return the favor. Even when I had to seal this door." Her blue eyes tore into Hermione. "Why are you here?"

Hermione stepped out from behind the tree and started towards Astoria. "I think you know."

"I don't wish to speak ill of him," the woman said, cautious. "Not today, anyway."

"I didn't come here to have it out with his grave, Astoria." Hermione shoved her hands into the pockets of her cloak. "I came here for closure. Maybe even a bit of reflection on the better times. I don't want to remember him today how I'll remember him tomorrow and the rest of my life. Today I'll forgive him, and tomorrow I'll probably change my mind."

Astoria shot her an envious look. "With my dying breath, I'll never forgive him." Her face twisted and tears flowed down her cheeks. "He chose _you_ over our son." She chuckled, disheartened, and wiped at the wetness. "I said I wouldn't speak ill of him."

"I understand—"

"But damn you!" Astoria hissed and hit her chest and then pointed at the mausoleum. "I took you, Draco! I took you when no one wanted you! You! Your family name was shredded, and I stood by you! I married you, Dark Mark and all! When your family's money couldn't save the stink of you and your father's sins, I swore myself to you! I gave you a child! And you betrayed me for a woman who didn't even want you!" She stooped down and began picking up rocks to toss at the stone structure. "You bastard! How could you?! I'll never forgive you!"

One of the rocks hit a stained glass window and broke it, and Hermione rushed to Astoria's side, forcing her to stop. The rocks fell to the ground, and Hermione asked, "Where's Scorpius?"

The question made Astoria pause and wrinkle her brow. "He's back at the manor with everyone else."

"Maybe you should join them."

The woman shook her head, tossing a longing expression at the mausoleum. "I can't leave him."

Instinctively, Hermione embraced Astoria. "I'll look after him. I'll make sure he doesn't get himself into any more trouble, all right? It's what I do, remember? I look after him when you can't. He can be so careless, you know."

It was then when Astoria broke into a fit of sobs, clutching onto Hermione for dear life, muttering how unfair it all was. It felt like hours before the woman let her go and staggered her way out of the cemetery, leaving Hermione alone with her own demons. She climbed up the marble steps and felt the ward repel her. She put her palm flat against the invisible barrier and whispered, "I couldn't save you this time, and I'm sorry." She fished out her ferret figurine from the coat pocket. "I was going to give this back to you. Put it somewhere, but I don't think I can.

"It's funny. Or not. I don't know, but I fell in love with someone who reminds me so much of you. Like you, he hurt me, and I wish you were here and you were my friend again because I don't know what to do, and you helped me through things Harry and Ron couldn't."

Sighing, she put the figurine back into her pocket and looked over her shoulder and saw Pucey at the bottom of the stone steps behind her.

"It's time," he said, showing his gloved hand and the golden keychain resting there.

"Now?"

"The timetable moved up. I'm not jonesing to go either, Granger." His features were stricken, and she knew he more than likely felt worse than she did. Like Nott, he grew up with Malfoy and both men knew him in ways she'd never understand. On top of that, he had to be the one to take Malfoy's remains to forensics and then be the one to knock on the Malfoy Manor door and belay to his parents the horrible news.

Walking backwards down the stone steps, she gave the mausoleum a lingering glance and then turned to face Pucey, putting her hand in his. Several moments later, they were both teleported to a safe-house in La Paz where they spent the rest of the evening drinking tea and going over their aliases in the sitting room in front of the fire. In Hermione's file, not only was their background information on her alias but other details as well that had nothing to do with the mission.

Nott found a man who could help her get on the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier. She was to meet him in three days outside a deli in Midtown. The only identifier to this man was the name Crossbones. Nott had nothing on him and cautioned her, explaining that this man was clearly not a friend to the United States government if he was willing to sell intelligence secrets. His price, however, was not money but instructions to plant listening devise and cameras on the craft.

 _You will do no such thing,_ wrote Nott. _Make him believe your intentions are as questionable as his. If you can't persuade him, get rid of him, and we'll find another way to get you on that aircraft._

Hermione closed her file and set it on the coffee table, picking up her mug and sipping at her tea while thinking of Loki and something that'd been nagging her the last few days. Why hadn't Thor taken him back to Asgard and shove him in a dungeon cell? Why keep him on Earth locked up in a flying metal cage? It was an impractical prison for something like him. It wouldn't and couldn't hold him forever because how could it? He was Loki.

God, she missed him.

Almost as much as she hated him.

And she didn't really hate him, but she was angry enough to just about fool herself into thinking otherwise. When she managed to get on that helicarrier, she was going to get answers on why he left and the real reason why he led her into thinking they had a future. It couldn't be all because of cruel trickery and boredom.

Yes, it could, the other half of her brain argued. It could've even been about humiliating Jane and Thor and causing a rift between the two.

If that was the case, he succeeded brilliantly. Those two were struggling with each other, and it was because of her because of what Loki did. Sometimes aiming indirectly at the target can cause just as much damage.

She felt Pucey's eyes settle on her face, and she ignored him until he asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"How unenjoyable it will be working with you tomorrow."

His smirk was cold and loathing. "If this gig wouldn't secure my two ex-wives' alimony, I would've told Nott to send some other poor sod to deal with you."

Hermione studied him, gnawing on her lip pensively. "I know you don't hate me as much as you like to pretend. You don't like me, but I know _deep, deep_ down that you'll forever be grateful I said to hell with Nott's protocols and saved Malfoy."

Pucey glared at her and stood up from his sofa chair. He stared down at her expectantly, and she followed suit, albeit hesitantly. She folded her arms and stuck out her chin, slamming him with her own annoyed glare which dissolved when he grabbed her head and kissed her. She cursed into his mouth and shoved at his chest, forcing him away from her enough so she could slap him.

The slap was hard and left a reddening print on his cheek. He chuckled nastily and thumbed it while she wiped at her lips.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" she barked. "If Nott were here, he'd beat you bloody"

"Theodore," said Pucey, his tone irate. "Sent Tracy packing because his golden girl returned. His perfect little protégé with her midlife crisis and overly confident attitude. You got lucky with Frack, kid. That's all it was. It wasn't talent. If you hadn't gotten your hands on Draco's wand, you would've been dead in the water, too."

Hermione went to say something along the lines of 'so effing what' when Pucey kissed her again, this time not as harsh but no less improper or demanding. It was then she could taste he had a lot more than just tea in that cup of his, and his actions were partially explained. She pulled away, saying no, and he jerked her back in and started murmuring nonsensical things against her mouth like how badly he needed a shag after the week he'd had.

He pressed his forehead and nose against hers. "C'mon, Granger. You can't say you haven't had a shitty week. You need this as much as I do. To just have a release and forget for a second how goddamn unfair it all is."

A disgusted 'You're drunk' left the tip of her tongue, and she pushed him. "I'm reporting this to Nott."

"Oh, I'll deal with Theo."

"You'd be the first."

Pucey chuckled, this one genuine. "Sometimes you're funny. I forget." He ran his thumb up and down her jawline, and she tilted away from him. "It won't mean anything. Everything will be as it was come morning, and I'll make it good for you, Hermione. I promise."

Her name, something he had never really bothered to address her by in the past, sounded unnatural on his tongue. She shook her head. "Keep it at Granger," and then she added with a ghost of a smile, "Adrian."

Not much later, Hermione learned something about Pucey. He was a lightweight and soon lost consciousness on the couch. He was nothing more than dead weight in the cushions, and not too long later, Nott came walking through the hearth still dressed in his funeral attire and appearing as though he knocked back a few, too. The service had to have taken its toll on him, as well. He had known Malfoy better than anyone.

Drunk or not, her boss crouched down beside the sofa chair she was now sitting in and said, "This won't happen again."

"He kissed me. I didn't encourage it."

His eyelid twitched, and his upper lip curled, shooting Pucey a promising glare. "Have you had anything to drink?" he asked her.

She shook her head.

He gestured at the kitchen, and they sat down on the stools at the counter and split a bottle of orzo. Three shots in, Nott was asking what she wanted to check up on inside the helicarrier.

"I gave you privacy, Granger, but we're about to strike a deal with a likely enemy to get you on there. I have a right to know at this point."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, cocking her head to the side and finally saying, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"You're going to have to do better than that," he chided.

She clasped her hands together and thought of a lie he might believe. "While I was in Asgard, I was given an apple that was said to promise immortality. When I returned to Earth, I handed it over to my cousin who then handed it to S.H.I.E.L.D. I want to ensure it's being properly used. If science could figure out its properties, imagine the leaps and bounds Muggle medicine could make. We both know _our_ world can't and won't offer its services in this area, and I want to help."

"You're lying."

"Did you really think I was going to tell you the real reason I need to get on that aircraft? Our deal was to get me on it, and you meet my new friends. That was it."

Nott knocked back his shot, staying silent for a moment. "Good luck tomorrow."

* * *

The tires of the rickety jeep slid almost too easily along the flats of Salar de Uyuni, but the wind was merciless and beat against the fragile machinery in hopes of toppling it on its side. Sweat trickled down Hermione's temples and the back of her neck, down the collar of her shirt. Dried blood stained her hands and was caked under her finger nails. When she adjusted her sun glasses, she smelt the pure, heady scent of dirt and death those hands sported.

In the passenger seat, Pucey glowered at the windshield from behind his own pair of sunglasses. His flimsy white button up was bloodstained and dirty like her hands.

Believe it or not, the job had been smooth but the kill itself hadn't been. Paulo De Garcia-Perez had been cornered in his hotel room by his lady of the night (Hermione) and a butler (Pucey) when he decided he'd rather leave the world on his own terms. He darted to the balcony and went to take the fastest way to the lobby when a shot fired, and he was down. Parts of his skull and brain matter spattered onto Hermione and Pucey.

"Nott's not going to pay us," Pucey murmured for the umpteenth time.

"I don't imagine he will," she repeated.

"But he should at least tip well for getting rid of the body."

"If he gets word there was a witness who saw a man who looked like Perez get shot on his balcony and that witness decides to blab, we're going to get nothing but our arses handed to us. Damn, this was rookie of us. I mean we had him, Pucey, and with our debrief, Nott's going to know how it all went down."

"On a positive note, Perez is dead at least."

"Nott won't get bragging rights, and we were only supposed to kill Perez if he gave us no choice."

"I know," Pucey mumbled. "Mother England had questions for him."

"Along with that, he's not supposed to be _publically_ dead." Hermione chewed on her lips. "Who do you think it was who killed him?"

Pucey snorted and shrugged one shoulder. "It could've been anyone, Granger. He wasn't exactly a likeable bloke. It could've even been Bolivia herself."

"Whichever agency it'd been—"

"If it was even an agency."

"—they weren't interested in asking questions, but in messy assassinations."

"I'm thinking freelance mercenary, myself."

"I'm thinking I want to make this bloody jeep an illegal portkey, so we can call it a day."

"Bolivia would chastise you, and request you spend several nights in one of their charming jail cells."

"Did you really have to drive out so far?" she whined.

"We had to make sure no one would come across us or Perez."

She squinted at the glare of the sun on the windshield. "I know."

As presumed, Nott tore a new one in both of them during the debrief back in New York City. He was so angry, his rant went off on a tangent, and he ordered Hermione out of Stark Tower by the end of the week. Later, when he calmed somewhat, and she was curled up in bed after another swimmingly good time at Stark's dinner table, Nott called and said he'd give her until the end of the month.

The following morning, after a twenty-minute soothing round of gentle yoga, she went on her run. It was still early when she left, the sun barely breaking the night sky. Steve followed behind and she let him until she reached a point in Central Park and then decided to lose him, wanting to be alone. It was not the morning of the exchanged with this Crossbones fellow, but Hermione still wasn't in the mood for being watched.

Closing in on her resting point, the sun was now up and sweat was starting to bead on her forehead. She chose to sprint for the next mile before taking a rest at a bench and stretching. As she struggled to catch her breath, her music ceased and she looked down at her phone. It was Steve. Pressing the tiny button on the cord of her headphones, she answered with a breathless, "Hello?"

 _"Where are you?"_

"Uh—"

" _Loki escaped."_

Hermione straightened and whipped her head around, unsure of whether she was searching for Loki or Steve. "What?"

" _Later. Run back to the tower as fast as you can. Do you have cash on you? Take a cab. Fury is worried he might come for you again. Do you have the tracker on you still?"_

"I removed it when he was taken in."

" _Be on the lookout."_

Starting another sprint, she replied with a nervous, "I will. Where's Thor?"

" _Talk later. Stark Tower now, Hermione."_

Hermione hadn't run so fast in years, although she wasn't clear as to why she complied with Steve's orders. She wasn't afraid of Loki and planned to have words with him if it was the last bloody thing she ever did.

Making it to Tony's floor, she walked in mid-conversation with the man and Pepper having an argument while Jane paced the floor, bouncing Daphne on her hip.

"I'm not going to let this ruin our fun," Tony clipped, pulsing his Ninja for several seconds before removing the lid and pouring yellowish green, frothy liquid into three glasses. At seeing her, he said, "Sorry. Not enough for you despite being the one who needs it the most at the moment."

"She can have mine," Jane offered.

"I am cancelling the party." Pepper planted her hands on her slim hips. "I'm telling Maria, and she'll send out the word. I'm serious."

"Come on, sweetie." Tony handed her a smoothie. "Banner's agreed to bunk over."

"He's going to come anyway once he hears about Loki."

"They all are, so I see no reason why our plans have to change. If Loki decides to crash the party, all of us will be there. Hey." He snapped his fingers and gulped down a bit of his own smoothie. "Why don't we make a trap just in case."

"That sounds incredibly dangerous. It's not just an Avengers only party. Civillians are on the guest list."

"A lot of them are veterans or on active duty and will be armed."

"Which will mean nothing to a god."

Hermione circled the bickering couple and grabbed her smoothie, finding two drinking straws in a drawer and sticking them in the glass. She sat down beside Jane and offered her a sip. Since the fight, things had settled for the most part. Following the debrief with Nott, Hermione got a call from Jane who apologized, not for her anger, but the way she displayed it. She'd lost her temper. The baby had been keeping her awake at night. She and Thor hadn't had sex for weeks. Since Loki's capture, she hadn't even seen him because he'd been going back and forth to Asgard and presumably the helicarrier. She knew it'd only been a few days, but still...

"I wonder who broke him out," Jane said, licking her lips. "That's fantastic."

"Someone broke him out?" She covered her mouth. "Oh, my God. _Who?_ "

"Tony and Steve think it's…HYDRA? I've heard of it, but I thought they died out in, like, the forties. I feel like I'm way out of the loop with everything. Thor did, too, when we first got here. I thought he would start explaining things to me, but he's become so secretive and never talks about the trips he's making back to Asgard and to the helicarrier."

All Hermione heard was HYDRA and the rest was static.

Well, shit.

She felt the sudden urge to call Nott.

"Why would they want Loki?."

"If it is them, I have a theory," Jane whispered, casting a side glance at Tony and Pepper who continued to fight. "And some bits you may know, but the majority you don't. After Loki fell into the Void, wherever and whoever he met, that guy gave Loki a scepter with a gem or a stone or something that gave him the ability to place mind control on people. He did it to Erik and a bunch of others. Well, during the big show down, Loki was separated from the scepter and it was confiscated by S.H.I.E.L.D. who was heavily infected by HYDRA. When S.H.I.E.L.D. was dismantled last year, HYDRA ended up with a big chunk of the toys, including the scepter. The Avengers having been trying to track it down for a while. Hermione, that _thing_ isn't even from Yggdrasil. There's no way they're going to be able to crack the power of the stone without the help of someone who's handled it before."

"Jane, I hate your theory."

"It's not pretty, I know. But it makes sense. Too good of sense."

Hermione bit her lips and nodded. "His agenda may not match HYDRA's, and they just gave him access to a powerful weapon, assuming he'll help them."

"If he gets ahold of that scepter, he could have an army of HYDRA agents _and_ the Chitauri if he's planning another invasion."

Hermione set her glass on the coffee table, her stomach queasy. It sickened her to hear how destructive and ruthless her former lover could be. She _knew_ when they started their affair, but with each kiss and touch and sweet whisper, the underlying threats became abstract.

For the past few weeks, she'd been angry with him for breaking her heart, and it was so much bigger than that now. It always had been, actually. She just couldn't look passed her own grief until now, and she had the urge to Apparate to a clearing and scream his name at the top of her lungs until he came for her, so she could tell him she hated him and would never forgive him..

"I know you two lovely ladies were worried, but the party _is_ happening. Just to be clear," Tony alleged and Pepper stomped off with balled fists and strangled yells.

Following a ten-minute mediation in her sitting room to soothe her murderous rage, she called Nott and told him she couldn't work for the next few days, and there was no reason for the exchange now with Crossbones. The meeting had to be cancelled.

"Bloody hell, why _?"_

"There's been a situation, and myself and Jane aren't really allowed to leave the tower until it's been resolved."

Her boss groaned. _"I feared something like this would happen. Those embellished circus freaks breed nothing but chaos and death. I demand you leave the tower and locate to the nearest Unplottable safe house and ride it out."_

"I won't leave Jane and Daphne, and it will be fine. I'll be fine. Also…regardless of the interesting circumstances, Mr. Stark is hosting a party this Saturday night. It starts at seven. Perhaps you'd like bring Remington. The area will be heavily secured and-"

Nott hung up.

He did end up coming.

* * *

Saturday night, two minutes, passed seven, Hermione stood in the guarded lobby of Stark Tower as guests filtered inside. Each individual was checked, rechecked, and expected to pass through a metal detector. Soon, she saw Nott and Remington, both dressed nicely in black blazers and unwrinkled trousers. Remington was the spitting image of his father, spikey brown hair, brown eyes, and black-rimmed specs. His ears even stuck out in the slightest like Nott's, which emphasized his youth. He was only nine.

Hermione wove through the crowd to fetch her guests and then immediately offered her hand to Remington. "Hello, I'm Hermione. I work for your dad."

Remington stared blankly at her hand for a few moments and then gingerly took it. "I'm Theodore Remington Nott the Third. And you are Hermione Granger, the war heroine and good friend of Harry Potter who you defeated the belated Dark Lord."

Sending a worried look at Nott, she asked, "Has he ever been around Muggles?"

"He attends a Muggle primary school. He's aware of the behavior he ought to display this evening." Nott cupped the back of his son's head affectionately.

Remington beamed up at him, a dimple cratering in one of his cheeks. "Father introduced me to New York pizza before we got here. It was really good. Better than the magical equivalent. How is that possible?"

"Your mother will tell you differently, but the better things in life often do not stem from magic."

"Is that why you choose to live among them?"

Nott patted the boy's shoulder and sent a pleading look at Hermione. "I'm assuming the party's not down here."

"I'll take you through the private elevator, so you don't have to wait." Hermione winked at Remington. "I heard Dr. Banner may make an appearance tonight."

"Hopefully, it _is_ Dr. Banner and not his messier half." Remington sniffed. "It'd look comical if were to shake his hand in his gargantuan state." They entered the elevator and the door closed. The boy examined his reflection, straightening his tie and then his glasses. As the lift began to rise, ACDC began to pump through the speakers, and he grabbed his father's hand. "Father, it's our song!"

Hermione squeezed her lips tightly together, avoiding eye contact with Nott who was sure to be embarrassed for actually having something cute as a shared song with his boy.

Nott cleared his throat and changed the subject. "You look nice, Granger."

She rather felt exposed in the fitted dress with a black top and mini emerald green skirt. It was one of Pepper's party dresses which apparently she had a number of them. Hermione now knew why the woman was so eager to get rid of it. It was a rather risqué ensemble, and the sheer black tights and heels really didn't help with the matter.

"Thank you," she said. "You do, too." She smirked. "But not as good as Remington."

Remington puffed up his chest and smiled up at her. "My father says you're related to Thor. Is that true?"

"My cousin married him."

"My father says your family is completely Muggle. Why would Thor marry a Muggle when they have so little offer?"

"Remington," Nott admonished half-heartedly.

"Because she's very pretty," answered Hermione. "To some, it's all that matters."

"Is she pretty l0ike you?"

She grinned. "She's much prettier."

"According to Norse theology, Thor married the goddess Lady Sif," the boy stated and then shook his head, his expression betrayed. "Father, your _Prose_ and _Post Edda_ is rubbish. It's all a lie."

"Not all of it," Hermione assured. "There are bits of truth here and there. There _is_ an eight-legged horse."

"Did Loki, the god of mischief, give birth to it?"

"No."

"How disappointing," he mumbled and straightened his tie again. "That would've been wicked."

The lift dinged and the door slid open, music and laughter assaulting the three of them. Hermione led her guests into the throng of people and luckily spotted two chicly clad girls vacating a sofa in favor of chatting up two young Marines playing pool across the room. Hermione hurriedly sat down on the sofa until Nott and Remington joined her and then got up and pointed behind her.

"They're serving chocolate mousse. I'll get one for Remington. Nott, I think I know what you want."

Hermione went to the bar, snatching a chocolate mousse filled martini glass from a server's tray on the way there. Waiting for a bit, she got a Manhattan and a vodka martini. As she went to leave for the boys, balancing the drinks and dessert, Tony popped up beside her and threw his arm around her shoulder.

"Silly me. When you said you wanted take me up on the offer of having a plus one, I didn't realize you increased the limit to one point five. What are you trying to do? Trying to get on the good side of the future stepson?"

"That's Theodore Nott, my supervisor. I owed him a favor, and he cashed in. His son really wants to meet Dr. Banner."

" _That's_ your boss? Let's go say hi." Tony made his way over to them with Hermione quick on his heels. He extended his hand at Nott. "Tony Stark. You must be the guy who's always calling Hermione in the middle of dinner and keeping her up late at night _and_ flat out not returning her by curfew. She's grounded for the entire summer, pal. Anyway, it's so nice to put a name to a face. Wait. What is your name?"

It was going to be a long night.

As the night grew late, Remington started to grow more and more disappointed. Bruce Banner had yet to make an appearance and come to think of it, neither had Mr. Clint Barton who had RSVP'd. About half passed ten, Remington was sidetracked from his pout-fest when spotting Natasha Romanoff behind the bar and ducked out of his father's watchful eye to climb up on a barstool and chat her up. When Nott and Hermione found him, he was showing off the handful of Russian words he knew which were ice cream, lavatory, pudding, and dragon.

"This little fella belong to you?" she asked Nott, her full lips quirking in a sultry smirk.

Hermione rolled her eyes at noticing the slight pinking of Nott's cheeks. She had met Natasha earlier that day, and she didn't blame Nott. If she were attracted to women. But still. Men. So typical. He had once actually told Hermione his least favorite Avenger _was_ Black Widow. He thought she deserved to be locked up for the rest of her life or unapologetically assassinated for the chaos she caused last year by dumping intelligence secrets onto the internet. An avalanche of problems had followed suit for western magical and Muggle agencies, and the mess was still not cleaned up.

Remington crooked his fingers at Hermione, and she ducked her ear to his mouth. He whispered, "Is she part veela?"

She laughed and shook her head. "No, she's just a very attractive lady."

The boy rose up on his barstool and said to Natasha, "I'm going to be ten this year."

Natasha rested her forearm on the bar and leaned close to him. "Is that so?"

"Hey, would you happen to know if Dr. Banner is going to be joining us at all this evening." Hermione nudged her head to the side at Remington. "He's dying to meet him."

"You like The Hulk?" said Natasha to Remington.

The boy took of his glasses and cleaned the lens with his tie. "I find Dr. Banner more fascinating, quite honestly."

"You like it when he smashes things.

"What am I, five?"

Steve came up beside Hermione and tossed a half-smile at Natasha. "Club soda."

"Really?" She clucked her tongue playfully.

"Have you seen Jane?" Hermione asked Steve. "I haven't seen her at all tonight."

"She and Thor just got back from checking on Daphne. There up there," he nudged his chin at the upper level, "with a lot of the others congregating on the sofas. I thought I'd come down and invite you all to join us."

"Is Dr. Banner up there?" asked Remington.

Steve grinned, endeared. "Parties aren't really his scene, unfortunately, but maybe Natasha can send a message, and he can make a special case."

Much to the displeasure of Hermione, Nott, and especially Remington, Dr. Banner did not make an appearance and was no longer even in the building. Remington did enjoy himself for the most part, however, entertaining himself by bombarding Thor with colorful, off-the-wall questions. When he asked about the Asbru Bridge, Jane then stepped in, responding with her usual scientific verbose. She was pumping-and-dumping that evening, so her tongue was bit heavy, and some of the words she had to repeat. Nevertheless, Remington soaked up every word, gaping at her like she was the most brilliant goddess ever to behold and then responding in similar fashion, using words and phrases and spouting out physic equations and theories.

Tony studied the boy thoughtfully. Greedily. "So Remy. Is it all right if I call you that? You live in England, right? Around Winchmore Hill judging from your accent? Where are you enrolled? Public, charter, private, boarding? I'm saying private on the verge of boarding—"

"Tony," groaned Pepper and Maria simultaneously.

"I'm sorry," he said unapologetically to Nott. "You and I should do lunch. I know this great shawarma joint. We'll talk. Bring Remy." He then gave Nott a shrewd look. "Will you have him during the summer? How do you feel about him interning?"

As the night grew late and the crowd began to disperse, Hermione and Nott secluded themselves in a corner on the upper level. On the opposite couch from them slept Remington. His glasses were askew, and he had a faint chocolate smear on his chin from the second chocolate mousse he nabbed.

Yawning, Hermione kicked off her heels and rested her feet on the table in front of her, bad manners be damned. Nott did the same, though he kept his shoes on. Somehow through their conversing, his arm found its way around her, and her head slumped against his shoulder.

They may have taken advantage of the open bar a little to enthusiastically.

"He looks like he's ours," said Nott.

Oh, yes. They were far passed discussing practical things like work. Earlier, he asked what color of nail polish coated her toes. He wanted to know if she wore Gryffindor red somewhere on her body to stay true to her roots.

"Hm?" she noised at Nott.

"He doesn't look like his mother." He yawned as well, running a hand through his mussed hair. "Or even act like her most of the time. He doesn't act like his stepdad, either, even though he's in the picture more than I am or ever will be."

Hermione frowned, partially because of him and other part because she realized the nasty slime on her tongue from drinks and salty appetizers she binged on.

"Why didn't you ever remarry?"

He shrugged. "Almost did a few times there, remember? It's just the life, Granger. I'd never satisfy a woman long term."

"What about when you retire? You're, like, halfway there. You hardly do fieldwork anymore, anyway. I mean one day you could be…um…like Charlie in _Charlie's Angels_. Just call the shots via Floo and then sit back and enjoy a sea breeze by the pool infested with dumb bimbos in serious need of a sugar daddy."

Hermione giggled at the image which only worsened when he flicked the tip of her nose. She retaliated in kind and one thing led to another, and they were taking part in a tickling fight which somehow peaked at Hermione laying on her front with Nott on top of her, attacking her sides as she wriggled beneath him while she squealed at him to get off. The position didn't last, however. Soon, both bristled and then scrambled away from each other, their cheeks red and minds numbingly sober.

Nott cleared his throat and then pointed somewhere. "I think I smell coffee from downstairs. Fancy a cup?"

"Please."

"I think I'll stop at the loo first."

"That's fine."

Once he was out of sight, she blew out a breath and fanned her blushing cheeks. It wasn't the good kind of blush, but more along the lines of 'I'm hammered and dumb' kind of blush. She and Nott were already fairly comfortable around each other as is and thought they weren't attracted to each other, they were still two relatively attractive, single adults who were capable of feeling the pull and consequences of being without companionship for a while.

God, they snuggled and had a tickle fight. They both were downright pathetic, yeah?

Resting her elbow on the armrest of the sofa and cupping her head, she closed her eyes and thought of Malfoy, which wasn't fair to him, God rest his soul, but thinking of him never failed in cooling her off.

Hearing Nott return and come up beside her, she smelt the sharp scent of an expensive cup of espresso close in on her. She opened her eyes and smiled thinly at the much needed beverage but decided to have a heart attack instead, for Loki who was dressed in a U.S. Navy uniform was the one holding the cup. She went to scream his name, but he put a finger to his lips whilst handing her the coffee. She took it, struck dumb, and he guided the rim of the mug to her mouth.

This was all too familiar.

"What are you—" The rim got wedged between her lips, and Loki tilted the cup, forcing her to drink.

"You're far too tipsy for my liking."

After swallowing a few gulps, she wrenched her head back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her worried gaze wandering to Remington who continued to sleep. Loki rolled his eyes and said, "I'll not the hurt the boy or anyone here if you come with me right now. _Willingly_. If you fight me, I'll have to use leverage, and the boy has the unfortunate luck of being too much of an opportunity to pass up."

He showed her his open hand, and she stared at it and then his face loathingly. His calm, aloof features softened into a nostalgic smile, and he dragged a hooked finger down her jawline. "How I've missed you."

"Where are you going to take me?"

"It's a surprise."

"Are…" Her chest stuttered. "Are you going to bring me back?"

He pressed his palm against her cheek. "Don't tell me you've grown fond of these fools."

"I'm partial to Jane."

"You and I both know she's far better off without you."

His words stung, but they were the truth. Nott had said it before, too, but it hadn't hurt as bad coming from him.

"Are we going to leave Earth?"

His stare was penetrating. "You think I'm here to take you away forever. If that were the case, I would've done that _months_ ago while we were on Asgard."

"Then why are you here? For me, I mean? You're not causing trouble for the Avengers or leading an other worldly invasion or demanding people bow down and kiss your arse."

"Take my hand," he said, showing her his palm again. When she didn't, he flicked his wrist at Remington who slowly began to rise from the couch and hover above the glass coffee table.

"Don't," she hissed, standing.

"The drop wouldn't kill him, but the landing would be fairly unpleasant."

Not long ago, Hermione would like to think Loki was bluffing. That he wouldn't intentionally or directly harm a child. But her naïve little bubble broke when she found out the attention he showered her with was all a farce. The rose-colored glass shattered, and she saw reality. God, it was like he had her under some spell. Now with his soft but stern words and gentle caresses, it was as if he was trying to cast one again.

Begrudgingly, she put her hand in his. "There are cameras everywhere. They'll know you took me."

"I'm sure they'll be enlightened by our conversation."

At that, Hermione went to jerk her hand back, but he got her by the wrist. "Ah. Didn't think about that, did you? I have a feeling my dear brother won't be able to explain his way out of this one. On behalf of us, he's going to have to confess our affair. I imagine his dimwitted friends and what's left of S.H.I.E.L.D. won't be thinking highly of you. That budding friendship with the one Steve Rogers will diminish instantly, and the respect Miss Potts had for you will suffer the same fate. Your precious cousin and Thor will defend you up to a point, but even they will eventually agree you are nothing more than my foolish whore." He jerked her close. "You won't be welcome here for much longer."

Out of all the places she imagined where he might take her, an ordinary-looking albeit barren cabin hadn't come to mind. The fireplace lit up the sitting room, and she leaned towards the warmth. Goosebumps sprung to life, and teeth began to chatter. Outside, she could hear the wind and rain beat against the structure.

"Where are we?" she asked, and he let go of her wrist. She padded over to the fire and rubbed her bare arms.

"Sognefjord."

Hermione glanced over at the window. "Norway again. Why do you keep bringing me here?"

"At one time, the people of this land worshipped me. They slaughtered and made sacrifices in my name. Forgive me for being nostalgic. I'm sure over the next little while, you'll grow fond of the place."

"You can't keep me here, Loki. I have magic, too."

His grin was wide and troubling. Her wand appeared in his hand, and he fiddled with it tauntingly, using his long fingers. "I swiped this off you only too easily."

"I don't need it to escape."

He groaned in annoyance and tossed it in the direction of the fireplace. Her heart jumped out of her chest at the sight, but she relaxed when it fell short and landed several inches from the hearth. "What exactly do you have to go back to?"

"Why exactly do you want to keep me here? And…no. You know what, Loki? I _do_ have questions for you. What did you have to tell me when you first took me? What was the point in telling me I was pregnant in front of Thor when you knew it wasn't true? Why didn't Thor take you back to Asgard and imprison you there instead of here which would have been the sensible thing to do? Who helped you escape? Was it HYDRA? Do you have the scepter like you did before? Are you planning another attack on my home?"

Loki sneered and her and lunged, and she was still fuming from her rant to be ready for him. Without preamble, he tossed her over his shoulder, and she squirmed and flailed her legs and torso to get him to put her down. She and Nott had sparred many times, and there were a couple of ways…

"Do stop fighting. It won't end well for y—"

She managed to jerk her knee into his throat, and then she lifted enough to wrap it around his neck. Using her weight, she flipped them both onto the floor, and she was free. On the cold, unrelenting wooden floor, yes, but she was free, and he was down with a stupid look on his face.

Her instincts barked at her to run.

But her questions. She wanted answers.

And her wand…

Damn it, they weren't important. She had to get free…

Loki's shock didn't last long. He rolled onto his stomach, and gripped her ankle to keep her from jumping and fleeing. She attempted in shoving her opposite heel in his face, but he calmly harnessed that foot, as well. In a blink, she was on a bare mattress in a barely lit bedroom. The only source of light was an oil lamp on the bedside table.

Loki still had a hold on her, and she clambered to shake him, but somehow he managed to flip her over onto her stomach and wedge himself between her sprawled legs all the while holding her down flat and pressing deeply into the mattress. She froze at the invasive, impermissible contact.

"Do I have your attention now?" he said gravely.

A spiteful 'fuck you' burned the tip of her tongue, but she didn't want to encourage an already frightening situation.

"Please don't hurt me," she found herself saying. Her thoughts shifted to Disapparating. She didn't have her wand, though, and it was a dangerous move to do without one. Perhaps if she got her ducks in a line and her nerves calmed the bloody hell down, she could…

Where was she again?

She wasn't familiar enough with Norway's geography, but the magical counterpart of Hermansverk came to mind. Was that…north? No, east! It was east. If she could get to any wizarding population, Loki couldn't follow. Neither could the Avengers. She'd be safe.

Until Nott found her. He'd be so angry when he did.

"I know what you're planning to do. _Don't_. Let me have a few words before you try and kill yourself. I'm not going to hurt you."

She refused to allow his lie to affect her. "I _hate_ you."

His chuckle was throaty and pleased. He pushed her hair from the base of her skull. inhaling and brushing his lips over the skin of her neck. When he got the shell of her ear, he forced an arm under her and pressed further against her. His teeth and mouth grazed as he said, "How badly do you hate me?"

"Enough that I don't want to have hate sex with you."

His sigh was one of disappointment. "Pity. The moment I saw you in this dress, I yearned to rip it from you and soak in your glory. In my absence, I can tell you've been taking very good care of yourself. Having you now would almost be like unwrapping a re-gifted present all over, and I'd love to reintroduce myself to every new nook and cranny with my tongue—"

"Do you have anything of value to spout before I attempt to kill myself as you so nicely pointed out?"

"It wasn't the only reason, no. I had expected you to be less hostile. I had hoped by now we'd be naked, and I would be telling you the _anything of value_ part of my explanation when you were satiated and pleasantly numb from my attention. Alas, you are being difficult to sway." He lifted himself off her enough to flip her over, and her body fell floaty and weightless. His eyes lingered on her breasts before dropping down to her abdomen. "I only said what I said about you being with child to upset you. I hadn't realized the tracker you wore nor how eager you'd be to turn me in. Secondly, I was never _truly_ incarcerated by the Avengers."

Hermione lifted herself up on her elbows, frowning. "Thor took you to the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier. Jane filled me in. She said there was a contraption—"

"Thor and I made a stop before he handed me over. I had planned to tell _you_ first, but you never gave me the opportunity, so I had to make do with my brother," he said distastefully.

"And what did you have to tell me?"

He brought the tip of his pointer finger to her lips and traced them, his voice steady and firm when saying, "Earth will be invaded again."

To be Continue...


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Behold, Chapter 13!**

 **I apologize for any and all mistakes!**

 **Please read and review!**

* * *

Hermione came to in the what appeared to be the late afternoon if she was going by the sun's position. The second thing she noticed was that the cabin Loki stole her away to was no longer bare. The bed was still undressed, but folded sheets, a thick comforter, and fluffy pillows were stacked at the foot of the bed. In the bathroom, her things were in there at the ready such as her toiletries kits, hair serums and conditioners, and her dental hygiene kit. Her closet was filled with her clothes, and there was dresser nestled against the wall packed with her casual wear, socks, knickers, and bras.

Loki must've magicked everything here from Stark Tower.

Taking her time walking through the cabin, she discovered it was bi-level, and had three spare bedrooms. Hers was the only one furnished. The sitting room where she and Loki first appeared last night had a squishy, sensible looking sofa and a furry rug facing the fireplace.

She reflected on what occurred before she'd fallen asleep.

There was going to be another invasion.

But that was only the tip of the iceberg and not even the real reason why he snatched her from Stark Tower.

The kitchen had the bare minimums when it came to cooking-wear: one skillet, one medium-sized pot, a teakettle, a series of stirring utensils, a cutting board, and a coffeepot. The cupboards and fridge were heavily stocked, and it worried her. How long was Loki planning on keeping her cooped up here?

It didn't help knowing that the only person likely to come looking for her would be Nott.

The Avengers wouldn't. Not because of the earful they probably got when going through the party's camera footage. It would be because Thor would tell his fellow comrades not to worry about her. He'd take care of it.

A lie.

Thor had known Loki was coming for her. He knew his brother would show up to the party sooner or later and deposit her halfway around the world.

Hermione should feel relieved that when Loki left Asgard, it was to not finish his endgame. He left to prevent it. As far as she could tell, Loki didn't hold back. He delivered answers to all but one of her questions. When she finally got to her last inquiry which concerned his _wife_ , his expression turned sour and he told her there were far more important things to worry about.

" _If you believe for one second, I'll let you have me again while you're bound to another woman, you're mistaken. It's possible I may forgive you for leaving and leading me to believe the worst in you, but we'll never be together as long as you're married to someone else,"_ she had vowed.

" _Sygn"_ he had begun stiffly, _"will not divorce me. You're also being a hypocrite, Hermione. Were you not married when we first became acquainted with each other?"_

" _I did get divorced, though, and our relationship evolved. I thought you wanted to marry me. Why did you give me a ring when you knew you couldn't?"_

That was the one question he didn't bother answering and chose then to vanish from sight.

Behind the stairs was a library/loft area, and the shelves were sadly barren. If Loki _did_ summon all her belongings from New York, she'd at least have her books to keep her somewhat occupied for the weeks to come. She could throw herself into finishing the translation of the Bi-frost stamp which would benefit no one because she was in Norway and Jane was in New York.

Stomping back up the stairs, she stormed into her bedroom and then the loo to fiddle with the spouts of the tub. The pipes creaked, and the water was a tad murky before it turned clear, but at least the temperature was warm enough. Stripping out of her dress and tights and underwear, she sank into the bath and unsuccessfully blocked Loki from her mind.

The zoning out and ill-sleeping patterns he had before leaving Asgard was due to someone reaching out across the galaxies to have a few words with him. More like threats, actually. And then eventually promises.

Loki had given her a name, but she wasn't sure if he was the one making contact or the one he was worried about the most.

Thanos.

Grabbing the bar of soap on the shelf, she scrubbed her arms and neck, thinking of Loki's reply when she asked why he hadn't come forward about it sooner rather than taking off.

He had wanted to sort it out for himself. He hadn't gone to Earth right away but traveled the Void, this time purposefully with all intents and purposes to dissuade another attack. Needless to say, he failed and barely got out alive. He promptly returned to Yggdrasil and then to Earth with a plan of his own which required deflating his ego and ridding himself of pride.

Well, not completely. He didn't directly go the Avengers for help.

" _Before Thor took me to the aircraft, I came forward about everything."_ Loki had rubbed his chin indecisively. _"I'm not fond of humanity, but Midgard is useless to me without your kind. With the help of the Chitauri, Thanos will cause global extinction of every living thing on this planet and then move on to the other realms of Yggdrasil. This was all belayed to Fury in time."_

Hermione drained the tub and then showered. Wrapping a towel around herself, she examined her closet and then peered outside her window. Sognefjord was beautiful. Lush, wet greenery surrounded her, and when she cracked the window open, the air smelt slightly salty from the sea. She couldn't see the ocean through the thicket of trees, but she could hear the waves and water rippling.

It was colder in Sognefjord than it was in New York. She dressed in a pink flannel shirt and a grey vest along with a pair of jeans and lace up boots. When she got outside and had a look at the property, she decided to get familiar with it before checking out the fjord.

There was a cellar in the back with a chain lock on it that was no match for wandless magic. She crept down the staircases and saw there wasn't anything down there save two generators for the cabin which explained the utter lack of heating and electricity the night before as opposed to this morning when she woke up.

She tried not to feel warm and tingly on Loki's consideration of her.

He wanted her to be comfortable.

But…she was without a cellphone and internet, and there was no telephone or television inside the cabin. He wanted her comfortable; however, he also wanted her cut off from the world.

Loki wanted her cut off from HYDRA.

" _The plan was to be imprisoned on the helicarrier until HYDRA came for me. They need me for the Mind Stone and having me back on Midgard within reach will be too much of an opportunity to pass up. Even with all of Midgard's advances, your scientists will be unable to unearth the power it possesses anytime soon. When they've successfully captured me, and I falsely pledge my allegiance to their cause and have been shown the scepter, I'll take it and deliver it to Thor—"_

" _No, you won't."_

A slow, wicked smile had split his face. _"How is it you know that, but my brother and even Fury was fooled? They even had the mindless green beast at the ready to start studying the stone upon my return and the archer on duty to keep an eye out in case I double crossed them. By now, I'm sure they know I have. I failed to return with the scepter at the time they wished."_

" _You've scared them into desperation, and they've no choice but to go on you word which is more or less worthless. What do you plan on doing with the scepter?"_

" _The Avengers won't be enough this time to win the invasion. I'm going to build an army of my own. A portion of them will be HYDRA agents, and I'll take advantage of their weaponry and silos. Unfortunately, I won't be able to collect all the able bodied men and women, and they'll attempt to fight me. I predict it won't end well, so they'll try another tactic which will be you. They don't know about you yet, but they could possibly. In time. I'm not willing to risk that._

 _"Despite not knowing my overall plan, Thor does know I'll betray HYDRA, thus, making you a target. He won't come looking for you, Hermione. He'll know of my betrayal soon if he doesn't already, but he knows revealing you will be too much of a risk. You're not just my weakness, Hermione, you're his as well because of Jane."_

There was a shed in the backyard, and Hermione slid the creaky doors aside and saw a steep, towering pile of cut firewood underneath a harnessed tarp. On the walls were an axe and miscellaneous landscaping tools. Behind the pile of wood—she almost didn't catch it—was a bicycle covered by a clear, heavy plastic tarp.

Closing and locking up the shed, Hermione squinted up at the sky and thought of Heimdall. She even waved and pictured him dipping his chin at her in response.

Hiking through the trees, her boots crunch over the debris of sticks and leaves. She looked behind her shoulder at the cabin and shoved her hands into the pockets of her vest, fingering her wand for comfort.

" _I'll return this to you._ " Loki had given her the wand, and she hurriedly grabbed it out of his hand. _"I wouldn't dream of leaving my witch unarmed."_

Fingering the grooves and point, Hermione had asked, _"If you're so worried about me being found by HYDRA, why not let me go to my world? They can't find me there."_

" _I don't want you there."_

" _You mean you won't be able to find me either."_

" _If they come, go wherever you like."_

Pulling her wand out, she tapped her thumb on the handle. She could leave if she wanted to. Go into hiding by residing in any wizarding population of her choosing. Or even go back to New York and persuade her way back into the Avengers' good races by relaying them of what Loki's true intentions were regarding the scepter. Or…

She could stay here where only Loki could find her for the time being and stay the hell away from the Avengers. From Jane, especially.

Having made a decision, she cast a Muggle Repelling ward around the property of the cabin. Loki hadn't considered she had such a handy, little spell at her disposal. He was aware she could cast wards, but not such _picky_ one. Truthfully, neither of them had seen the best and the worst of what they could do with their magic, and Hermione hoped it would never have to come to that. Seeing the best and worst of people usually meant being in a terrible situation with them. Jotunheim had been bad enough, thank you.

The fjord was absolutely stunning, and she walked along the shore for quite some time before finding a large rock to upon sit and enjoy the peace and quiet. New York had been so loud with its high density population and hustle and bustle. Pollution plagued the sky, and she couldn't see the stars there which she had grown to appreciate during her time in Asgard.

Here, being so far north, the sun already began to grow heavy in the west, and a few stars had already invited themselves into her view.

Squeals and giggles of childish laughter touched her ears, and she looked off in the distance to see a family with two men and three children. They were setting up an evening picnic as well as prepping their fishing rods. The oldest child, who had white blonde wavy hair and looked about eight, caught her stare and waved. Hermione smiled and returned the gesture.

After a while, she hiked back to the cabin, her tummy rumbling and her throat parched. She hadn't a thing to eat or drink all day. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Loki waiting for her. She thought weeks would go by before he'd deem it time to check on his favorite toy to ensure no one else dared play with it.

"Do you like it here?" he asked, strolling towards her with clasped hands behind his back.

Hermione nodded and locked the door, looping the key around the hook beside it. "I thought you wouldn't show up for weeks." She shirked her vest and draped it over one of the two wooden dining chairs at the table and brushed by him to get to the fridge.

"I wanted to make sure you were still here. That you hadn't run off to a place I could find you." He disappeared and then reappeared behind her where he caressed the side of her neck with the backs of his fingers. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Hermione scowled. She wanted to yell and kick and scratch at him. She wanted to tell him he did lose her. At the rate things were going, he was never going to have her again. There was no way their story was going to end well. A happy ending was impossible at this point. Even if this _Thanos_ failed, Loki would still be a criminal for all the delinquencies he tallied for the many treasons he committed and will continue to commit. That scepter. Loki wasn't giving it up to anyone. It'd be his key to rule Earth once the dust had settled after Thanos.

In her peripheral, she saw the scepter laying on the table, the blue stone pulsing from beneath the wickedly curved blade. She tempted herself in summoning it to her and Disapparating with it. She'd take it to Wizarding London, to Gringotts and lock it in her vault where he or anyone else couldn't reach it.

And yet, she knew he needed it to build his army. She was conflicted on his method of forcing HYDRA agents to fight, but war was never black and white.

She fantasized about snatching the scepter from him when it was all over because already her and Loki's future looked rather dim and putting one more thing in between them was akin to beating a dead horse.

Sighing as Loki wrapped his long fingers around her tresses, she allowed him to leave a trail of kisses along the slope of her forehead to the tip of her nose. When he attempted the same treatment for her lips, she offered him her cheek instead which he took and then steadied on to the slope of her neck. His teeth and the tip of his tongue grazed the flesh, and she steeled herself, jerking away and shaking her head and his pinched, disappointed pout.

"How long will you punish me?" He thumbed her chin.

"I meant what I said." She turned around and opened the fridge.

His wandering hands skittered up her spine, kneading her flesh and muscles she had no idea smarted until he found them. "I _ache_ for you, Hermione."

She bit her lip and tried not to lean into his seductive ministrations and focused on the twelve different types of jam Loki thought she needed. Oooh. Ligonberry jam. She hadn't had that since she was a child. Twisting the lid off, she smelt the sweet, fragrant goo and hoped to hell Loki knew her well enough to have provided crunchy peanut butter.

Speaking of, two strong hands had traveled southward and found residences on her bum. Without preamble, he gave her a good squeeze and said, "This is looking more perfect than usual."

"Loki," she grumbled, setting the jar back on the shelf and glaring at him over her shoulder. "Stop. I'm hungry and I want to eat."

He licked his lips and dropped his gaze. "As do I."

Her cheeks burned, and she grabbed the slab of Jarlsberg and the container of butter. She set them on the counter by the stove, and Loki followed, pressing his front into her back and whispering into her ear, "Have you missed me at all, Hermione? I know you've been angry with me, but surely your feelings for me didn't diminish overnight."

"They didn't," she assured curtly, "But a good portion flew the coop when I found out you're married."

"What would you have me do? I told you she will not divorce me. Believe me, Hermione, I have tried all but killing her to be rid of her. Would you have me do that? Kill her so I can have you?"

"God, no!" She stared at him wildly. He sounded contemplative. "Is she aware at all of your dislike for her?"

"Like you, she's punishing me. I was dishonest with her from the beginning and when she could take no more, she left for another realm, taking the other half of the marriage bonds with her. Only the king—my brother—can break them, and we have to both be present for the ritual and willing. Hermione, we are only married by law. You and I can still have a future—"

Growling, Hermione fetched the skillet from beneath the stove and slammed it on a burner. " _I_ want to be your wife! _I_ want to be bound to you _forever!_ I want you to stop doing shit that's going to compromise our future because at this rate, I'm looking at eternity _alone_ while you waste away in the palace dungeon or you're simply dead because you're an imbecile and you give people too much incentive to kill you!"

"Hermione—"

"I can't walk the pathway you've set up for yourself." She walked over to the table and picked up the scepter. It was heavy, and she could feel the power from the stone pulsate within the shaft. There was a strange, buzzing warmth to it, and she extended it to him. "Take it, but know you'll never have me and this _and_ your wife in the long run. I want to be your everything, and I want to be enough for you."

Loki didn't take the scepter, so she stepped closer to him. "Take it. You can't have two of your chinks in one place. Besides, you need your army."

He cautiously took the scepter from her, his expression schooled in perfect ambivalence and then he was gone. Like her appetite. But she knew she needed to eat something. She made herself a grilled cheese sandwich with a glass of chocolate milk, both of which she regurgitated due her stomach be unused to the high-carb and high-fat content of her meal.

Into the evening, she sipped on ginger tea and nibbled on crackers while flipping through one of her published books until she was too tired to read. Dressing her bed, she slipped underneath the covers and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Days went by which turned into weeks. Soon, a month had come and gone since Loki had taken her from New York. She hadn't seen him since he left with the scepter, but he had dropped by when she wasn't looking. A few times a week after her morning run or hike, fresh flowers in a vase would appear on the table. Sometimes they were native to Norway but more often than not, she'd have to read up on the genus using the gift-wrapped book as a point of reference. He had left it for her several days into her stay at the cabin.

The book on flowers had not been the only book he'd given to her. Twice a week, she'd wake up to a new novel or tome or manuscript on her bedside table. Some of the texts were quite rare, the pages pristinely restored yet so brittle to the touch, she reckoned he must've stole them from a museum or a locked-up archive.

On the days she didn't recieve books or flowers, Loki left her sweets ranging from Turkish Delights to soft squares of salted caramel to Belgian chocolates to marzipan to an Ion Break chocolate bar.

Needless to say, he was trying to woo her.

Although, he did overdo it when her food supply was restocked and she saw he left a very expensive brand of Turkish coffee beans by the coffee maker instead of the Gevalia.

No, Loki actually overdid it when she got out of the shower one morning and saw a small, perfectly cubed present beside the bathroom sink. Wrapping a towel around her, she investigated the object and soon discovered it was a jewelry case that had two perfectly pink pearl earrings nestled in the velvet.

Hermione wasn't sure what all the gifts meant. Did they mean he chose her over power? Were they representing an apology from him for leaving Asgard the way he had? Or were they incentive for her to keep him while he performed his misdeeds upon her world and the people of it?

Returning from her evening hike, Hermione expected to see a fresh bouquet of flowers on the table but there wasn't one. Pained groans came from upstairs, and she brandished her wand, bolting up the stairs to find Loki bleeding profusely on the carpet in front of the fireplace. It looked like at one point he'd been laying on the couch—given the crimson pools on the material—and had fallen to the floor.

A few feet from him was the scepter, but she paid it little mind as she rushed to Loki and examined the busted armor, the tear in his leather, and the gaping hole in his side. She studied his face and saw he was practically unconscious with his eyes closed and his hand barely able to put pressure on the wound. Sweat beaded at his temple, and she saw blood stain his whimpering lips.

Forcefully, she removed his hand from his side and tore at the leather to reveal the problem. Whatever had ripped a hole in him had punctured a lung. Demigod or not, the wound was fatal, and he was losing so much blood. Her hands were covered in it, and her wand nearly slipped from her fingers when summoning her first aid kit. The box glided out of her room at a deadly speed and landed with a thud by her bent knees. Yanking it box open, she dumped all that she had onto the wooden floor, some of the vials rolling in all directions. She grabbed the essence of dittany and paused when noticing Loki's eerily still form. His lips were no longer quivering, and the tips of his fingers and ears were turning blue. _Real_ blue. And it was starting to spread. She was unsure of what that meant, but it couldn't be good.

She cupped his face, and his skin was like ice. "Stay with me. Stay with me, Loki. It's okay. I'm here." She picked up the essence of dittany again and cut and removed Loki's armor with a flick of her wand. Her brow furrowed at the broken bit stretching the skin over his ribcage, and she muttered a healing spell and expected to Loki to yell from his bone being reset, but he stayed silent and motionless. So motionless that she realized he wasn't breathing.

Blue continued to spread over his skin, and Hermione theorized what that meant, but there was still time. She could save him. She would.

Squirting generous gushes of the essence of dittany over his flesh, she then levitated him and the medical supplies to her bedroom. She laid him on the bed and set to work on an IV. Hurriedly, she filled the bag with Blood Replenishing potion and hung it on the nearest poster of the bed before shoving the needle into a vein on the side of his forearm.

Hermione paced the floor, her eyes never leaving his chest, waiting for it to move. Seconds and then minutes went by, and Loki was as blue as he hand been when she rescued him in Jotunheim. Gripping her wand, she yielded _Rennevarte_ after _Rennevarte_. On her twelfth one, his chest sprung up and his mouth opened to suck down air, and the sound was so sweet and perfect, a tear slipped down her cheek. She rechecked the needle in his IV and saw the tube had hardened and developed frost. She quickly cast a Warming Charm, so he'd continue to receive the potion he desperately needed.

An hour later, Loki was still unconscious and blue when she switched out the IV bag. The area in which he'd been wounded was puckered and swollen and resembled a crevice. Hermione squirted a few more droplets of dittany on the flesh and left him alone to wash her hands and reorganize her first aid kit before going into the sitting room to tidy up the mess.

The rug was a loss and no amount of magic was going to fix it, so Hermione rolled it up and lugged it outside and into the shed. She'd burn it later.

The scepter still lay discarded on the floor, and she picked it up and set the staff on the mantle.

Close to three o'clock in the morning, Loki finally stirred. Hermione promptly set down her book and got up from the chair she'd taken from the dining table. She watched in silence as he assessed where he was and what caused him to get there. His forehead wrinkled, and he rubbed his eyes which was when he noticed his blue state. He clenched and then unclenched his fists, the blue residing from his skin in favor of his usual pinkish-pale hue.

Hermione went up to the foot of the bed and stared at the crater-like scar on his side.

"I'm all right," Loki murmured, his tone irate and his voice thick from rest.

She said nothing and climbed onto the bed, crawling up to him and laying a tender kiss on the crater-like scar on his side. She repeated the sentiment several more rounds before guiding her lips up and over his ribcage, his chest, sternum, all the way up to his mouth.

Not terribly long later, Hermione rolled off Loki, who was already asleep, and removed the rest of her clothes, carelessly throwing them on the floor. She got underneath the covers and was too tired to feel any sort of regret for her actions. When she awoke late the next morning, she was tangled up in the sheets and alone. Loki was gone, but on the pillow where he'd been, there was a single peony. She put the petals to her nose, smiling despite herself. Despite how she went back on her word and had a go at him the moment he was awake and capable of touching her without harm.

Days started to come and go once more. There were still presents but never any sign of Loki. Three weeks passed, and she started to grow anxious. Not about Loki, but something else. As she alphabetized her haircare products underneath the sink, the stack of feminine items mocked her as did her calendar when she crossed off the days. Once another week had failed again to deliver her monthly visitor, she knew she had to pay a visit to the nearest town.

The bicycle in the shed needed a touch of magic to stop the chains from creaking and to pump up the tires. Another spell, this one a cleaning charm, her humble object of transportation was ready for her to flick up the kickstand and ride with a copy of the map she made from the Norway atlas Loki got for her a few weeks back.

Hours later and her wallet much lighter—tourist towns, holy shite—she returned to the cabin and took the pregnancy test right away. As the stick decided on whether it wanted to show her one or two pink lines, she paced the bathroom floor and wondered _how exactly_ she should break the news to Loki if the test came out positive. And _how exactly_ was a baby going to influence their lives?

Six months ago, she would've been ecstatic and bouncy and crossing her fingers.

Now, the seconds were ticking by too quickly for her liking, and she was frightened. Things weren't good between her and Loki, and Earth was close to being paid another visit by an unwelcome guest.

Hermione tried to comfort herself, pointing out she didn't _feel_ pregnant. Aside from a skipped menstrual cycle, there weren't any other symptoms.

Four weeks in, though. Twenty-eight days wasn't far into the scheme of things. Nausea, breast-tenderness, cravings, and sluggishness had another week or two before they came knocking on her door.

The timer on her watch beeped, and she picked up the test and blew out a long, slow breath when seeing the two pink lines.

"Okay," she said to herself, shoving the test back into his box and throwing it in the rubbish bin. She went downstairs into the kitchen and started rifling through the cupboards, having been hungry before she got home. Now all she saw were items non-recommendable for a fetus.

Closing the fridge, she rested against the opposite counter close to the sink and told herself she was being absurd. True, at least a quarter of her food supply she couldn't have anymore, but maybe she could give it away to her nearest neighbor who lived a mile and a half north through the shrubbery.

Since she was a pescatarian, all her meat supply would have to go. It'd probably be best to get rid of her ice cream and her cheese, as well. And while she was next to it, she might as well unplug her coffee machine and stow it in a cupboard.

With her mental checklist of things she could no longer have, she made one about the things she needed which would require another bicycle trip to town.

Or…

She could make Loki get them for her.

Glancing at the bouquet of flowers on table which had been there for a couple of days, Hermione found a piece of paper and a pen and scribbled a note to him. She'd done this before here and there, leaving notes for him to read and ignore. This time, however, she hoped 'I'm pregnant' would grab his attention as opposed to 'I think we should talk.'

* * *

The next day while she was out for a stroll at the shoreline of the fjord. The warmer weather had brought more people to the area, so she put her hood up over her ball cap and tried to stay out of the tourists' pictures. Close to midmorning, she sat down close to the water and rested her legs. A few minutes later, she felt the presence of a man beside her. She glanced up and sighed when seeing it was Loki. As if it would've been anyone else.

To blend in with the others, he wore Midgardian attire consisting of khaki trousers and a white polo shirt. His hair appeared lighter, too. Wordlessly, he sat down beside her, and she said, "Are you healed completely?"

His blank expression transformed into one of annoyance.

"Don't look at me like that. You almost died. I can ask. I can worry about you."

"Are you _sure_?" he hissed, his eyes flicking to her middle.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm sure enough. I can't really go to a doctor right now, but there are healers in my world I could go see."

He raked his fingers through his hair and stared up at the sky. "Is there discomfort you're experiencing that could be linked to _it_."

"No."

He hummed noncommittally. "I know Thor plans on taking Jane back to Asgard soon. My brother has foolishly let her become involved in the situation. My sources tell me she's attempting to ceased her attempts on creating a bi-frost in favor of opening a portal. The Avengers want to shove an army through it and meet the Chitauri halfway. They wish to avoid a battle on Midgard entirely."

"…oh…" She bit her lip and brought her knees in closer to. "Where does that leave you and your army?"

"They'll go wherever I tell them"

"Won't it be confusing for the Avengers if you show up with a mass of HYDRA soldiers? What if they try to kill them, too? And what exactly are you going to do with them afterwards if you defeat the Chitauri?"

Loki sniffed, eyeing in apprehension the squealing children a few feet from them. "I'm not going to do anything with them. They served their purpose, and I'll leave them to their own devices."

"In outer space? With the Avengers? That'll start another battle, Loki."

"My concern is preventing Midgard and Yggdrasil as a whole from being destroyed. If the children still want to play after dark, who am I to ruin their fun?"

Hermione exhaled in frustration, frowning at the water. Why did she love this…this _thing_? Why did fate decide to put him in her pathway with Cupid at the ready?

"I'm going back to the cabin." Ignoring his perplexed face, she got up and started towards the cabin. She thought he would run after her, perhaps even cause a scene, but he didn't. When she glanced over her shoulder, he was gone, and she made the trek alone.

At the cabin, he was waiting for her, dressed in his armor with his scepter in hand. "Are you going to have the child?" he asked before she even closed the door.

"Yes."

"Then you will have little choice but to return to Asgard with Jane. I'll manage to get Thor alone and tell him what has come to pass. Despite everything, he would not dream of even leaving you here on Midgard in such a state."

She folded her arms and said, "I don't want to go back to Asgard, Loki."

"By all means, have the bastard here then." He simpered cruelly. "Your mortal healers will be besides themselves when you deliver a half frost giant. I'm sure even your magical practitioners will have a good scare."

"Daphne's birth was perfectly normal. I have no reason to believe my pregnancy or the delivery should be any different."

"Are you really going to chance it because of your pride?"

Exhaling raggedly, she sat down in one of the dining chairs, the feeling of exhaustion hitting her like a soda can on a train track. He was so tiresome, honestly.

"I really don't want to go back," she said softly, rubbing her eyes, "but I will if I suspect complications, and then I'll come straight home when the baby's born."

Loki opened his mouth and then shut it, his mouth settling in a thin, residing line. His fingers tightened around the staff of the scepter, and he swept his aloof gaze around the kitchen. "You've been here for two months. I imagine you'd like a change of scenery."

"I don't want to leave. I like it here." She nodded. "It's nice."

"I meant for the evening. I have matters to take care of first, but I'll be here at six o' clock to fetch you."

"Where—"

And he was gone.

* * *

Hermione chose to wear a simple beige skirt and white blouse. She wasn't entirely sure where Loki was taking her, but she assumed dinner. As she dabbed on a bit of lip gloss, she realized it had been over a year since their last, real date. It'd been their first and last. Everything following had been steamily clandestine. Sex, secret kisses, and secret glances. None of those things had been bad, but there should've been more depth added, especially when they became exclusive amongst Asgard.

Scoffing, she thought of how she _shouldn't_ regret not having a proper relationship with Loki. He was _Loki_.

Nevertheless, she put on an extra coat of mascara and smoothed into her hair a second pump of serum. Instead of just lotion, she applied a spritz to her neck and wrists and…ahem…upper legs. Putting that away, she saw her jewelry box which was filled with more sentimental trinkets than actual jewels: her soldered bands from her marriage with Ron, the engagement ring Loki gave her, and the pearl earrings were in there.

She would _not_ be slipping on the engagement ring, but she did consider the pearls. Their luster and shine and hue were perfect, and they reminded her of her late grandmother's pearl which were left to Aunt Daphne and then passed onto Jane.

"All right, you bastard," she muttered while putting on an earring. "You win this one."

At six o'clock sharp, she walked out of her bedroom and was enveloped from behind by Loki. A quiet _oh_ escaped her mouth and then did an _ooooooh_ when he buried his face into her neck and inhaled greedily.

"Do you greet everyone that way when you appear behind them?" she remarked.

"You're lovely."

It was impossible to fight the blush on her cheeks. Looking nice had been her goal and even though it was naughty and against the rules, she let him grab her bum while he listed off a number of wretched acts he wanted to inflict upon her.

"No, not tonight," she replied, reached up and behind to cup his neck. "And probably not ever until—"

"So you said, Hermione, but it was _you_ who broke, remember?" He patted her belly as if she'd forgotten.

She dropped her gaze, her blushing cheeks reddening further. "You almost died," she said softly. "There was a minute I thought you were gone." She turned, her hands palming where a hole had been. "I also thought mortal weapons couldn't harm you like that."

"The staff," he held up a cane topped with the blue stone, "was momentarily displaced during battle with the HYDRA agents. I've come to discover they're unimpressed I've dabbled in their comrades' paradigms."

"How'd they manage to get it off from you. You're stronger than them, and their weapons—"

"Aren't reduced to simple explosive aiming devices."

"What was it then?"

His tone was bitter. "He wasn't so much as an _it_."

Hermione stared up at him in surprise. "A man did that to you? _How?"_

"Why? Are you looking for ideas for when you can no longer stand me?"

"Don't tempt me," she said, deadpanned.

His pointer finger fiddled with one of her pearl earrings. "He was fast. Much faster than a human has the right to be. He managed to take the scepter and injure me with it. As you know, I barely escaped with the scepter and my life. I caused more damage wrangling it from him, thus, the broken rib. For his insolence, I broke two of his."

She was going to ask why he spared the man's life, but came to the conclusion on her own that Loki probably hadn't the energy nor the time. His instinct for survival had outweighed everything else.

* * *

Hermione had no idea where Loki planned on taking her, but she assumed somewhere within Norway since he seemed attached. On the contrary, he brought her to Kos.

Standing on the sandy beach in much warmer, humid weather than Norway could provide, Hermione elicited a gasp and then an incredulous chuckle. She furrowed one brow and quirked the other at Loki and said, "How did you know to bring me here? I never told you about this place."

"You and Jane prattled on about this place constantly back on Asgard."

"Yes, but you weren't _there_ when we did..."

He grinned.

"…oh, of course you were. What was I thinking?"

"Do you like it?"

She pursed her lips at him, and her body leaned into his on its own accord, her arms wrapping around his middle. "Are you really asking me that when you know full well what a bad, _sneaky_ man you are?"

At a restaurant in the hotel of Palazzo del Mare, butterflies fluttered madly inside Hermione's belly as she intently studied the menu. First the wooing of books, flowers, candy, and now _this_? What was Loki's angle? Aside from the obvious and that he planned on seducing her. Oh, yes. Their little trip to Kos—a place of wonderful childhood memories—with the beach and the stroll to the five-star hotel with gourmet cuisine. Loki was looking for a shag.

"I'm not as familiar with Greek history as you are. Would you care to stop by the ruins after dinner and provide me a brief history on how they got there?" said Loki.

Her grip tightened on the menu, and she blew out a long breath. Now he was playing the 'I'm so beguiled by your brilliance and ancestry. Do tell me more' card. She was already so pathetically and destructively in love with him. All of the wooing and courting was truly going to end her. She was already neck deep with functionless limbs. Loki was anticipating a full on burial before the night was over.

"If you'd really like to," she replied, closing her menu and setting it aside.

The server arrived, and they ordered their drinks and meals. Hermione declined the offered wine and ordered the fresh grape juice instead along with a vegetarian pasta dish. When Loki tried to play off he wasn't quite ready to order to hide the fact how unfamiliar and distrusting he was of Midgardian cuisine, she ordered for him.

Grabbing the menu out of his hands, she handed it to the server and said, "He'll have the same but with the braised lamb, cooked medium rare."

He glared at her, and it was it hot. She smiled at him brightly and under the table nudged his foot with her own because they were on a date, and he could be so petulantly cute sometimes. Those defiant, pretty blue-green eyes; she wanted their baby to have them.

"You'll like it. I promise," she told him when the server left. "My grandma would make it at family get-togethers when I was little."

"You don't eat lamb," he stated, eyes narrowing like she wished illness upon him.

"I did when I went to my grandparents. I don't know how it worked with yours, but when I visited mine, I ate what was given or _else._ "

Loki arched his eyebrows. "Or else what?"

"I don't know. That's what my grandpa would say. And my mum for that matter. It was a way to keep me in line, not that I was unruly by any means. My main fault was the habit of pointing out people's inadequacies. Their learning inadequacies."

"Had?"

"I was worse then. I didn't have friends because of it for a very long time. It didn't help that I was an unfortunate looking thing. Not only was I rude and swotty, I was borderline hideous. My teeth and hair went in all directions. As you can imagine, I was an easy target in both primary and secondary school."

Loki circled the rim of his wine glass with the tip of his middle finger, his focus on the movement. "I…know a little of what being an easy target is like."

He left it at that, and she didn't push. Loki never talked of his childhood experiences and what it was like to grow up in Asgard, though she concocted plausible scenarios. Despite growing up to…what he'd grown up as, she very much doubted he had a legitimately _hellish_ childhood. He had a mother, a father, a home, his own bedroom, and three square meals a day along with dessert. But like many, Loki's resentment and hatred stemmed from the things he wanted, not the treasures he had.

It probably made matters worse that he was different. As skilled as Hermione imagined he was being a warrior, he was a mage first and foremost. When his tricks failed him, he'd then engaged. Asgard possessed an extremely militant aura, and anyone who even bothered looking at Loki would know he was not a soldier. And since he wasn't one now, she reckoned he wasn't one in his younger years either like Thor and Thor's friends.

Loki may have had all the essentials as a child with the exception of social acceptance and _involvement_. Two important things often overlooked by parents and peers. Hermione had eventually obtained those in her adolescent years (sort of), but more so in her adult life. Loki, she heavily suspected, never got the opportunity.

Not that Hermione was making excuses for Loki and his actions. Everyone in Yggdrasil has the right to agency. Loki chose the pathway he wished to journey, and no one but himself put him there. He chose to wallow in bitterness and point fingers at those he blamed for his failures.

Her mood automatically soured, and she partly wished she could order a few glasses of wine to oust the somberness building up inside her. She touched her stomach and thought it might be possible alcohol wouldn't hurt her baby since its father was a demigod. However, she couldn't bring herself to chance it.

Their food was brought out, and she gifted Loki a haughty smile when he seemed to enjoy his dish. Twirling her own pasta around her fork, she winked at him and said, "Maybe if you're a good boy, I'll make it for you the next time you come to visit me. And if you behave yourself then, I'll make sure there's chocolate pudding for dessert."

The expression he gave her caused her to wonder if she herself wasn't itching for a shag.

No, no, no!

Then why'd she bother spritzing her legs?

 _He's married,_ the angel on her right shoulder reminded. The voice sounded like her mum's.

 _He's separated,_ the devil on her left reminded. Of course he sounded like Loki.

 _You love him,_ both said.

 _But…,_ said the angel.

 _So…,_ said the devil.

The battle between good and evil inside her head screeched to a halt at the sight of two new patrons being shown to their table across the dining area.

"Oh, my God," she hissed, ducking her head and putting a hand up to shield her face. "No, this can't be happening. It's impossible."

Seriously, what were the odds?

Loki bristled across from her, and he gripped his cane. "Who's here? Is it—"

"We need to leave _now_." A server walked by them, and she asked for the check.

Heart ramming inside her chest, she whispered to Loki, "My ex-brother in law and his wife are over there on…no, don't _look,_ you idiot. If they spot us, Bill's going to tell my ex-husband who's going to tell my friend Harry who's going to call my old boss, the one I was working for when you decided to kidnap me—"

"You were practically willing."

"—and explain to him I was seen in Kos on a date." Hermione's shielding hand clenched and unclenched. "Loki, I wasn't exactly honest with you on what I used to do for work, but let's just say if I'm spotted having a swimmingly good time with you by certain people, I could get in a lot of trouble. Like _treason_ kind of trouble. Nicholas Fury may overlook what I did in Asgard with you because of Thor's good name and word, but others will not be so polite."

Hermione could not count on her little outing ending with Nott. They may have an understanding and deep respect for one another, but he had a job to do.

Bemusedly, Loki sniffed and carelessly offered her his hand. "It's going to be all right," he said, bored.

She tried to smile and put her hand in his, expecting a comforting squeeze, but what she got was a change in scenery instead. She and Loki were no longer at the restaurant but in the cabin, sitting at the table.

"We didn't pay," she lamented.

Loki grabbed her hand before she could move it away. "You told me your employment history. You did some degree of law enforcement in your world, catching rogue wizards and whatnot before concluding that kind of life wasn't for you, so you started writing textbooks for university level European history and folklore classes. What did you fail to mention, my dearest witch?"

Hermione winced and hesitantly, she confessed, "I worked for a discreet branch of MI-6. MI-6 is—"

"I know what MI-6 is," he interjected. "What work did you do for them?"

"…"

His fingers dug into her wrist painfully. "Tell me."

"Let go of me."

"Tell me, Hermione."

His hold was unmerciful, and her wince turned into a glare. "Do you really want to know?"

Before he could reply, she summoned the dagger from the sheath he had hidden underneath his overcoat and sliced his forearm through the sleeve with it, and she wrenched her hand from his. She leapt up from her chair and put the blade to his throat, the tip resting on his jugular.

"The reason I cut my hair, Loki, was because the man I was sent to kill didn't appreciate my cheek, so he sliced me from here," she moved the blade from his neck to a few inches above his shoulder and then glided it downwards at an angle, skimming over his jugular again, Adam's apple, and to the top of his left pectoral, "to here."

She watched him swallow and then lean his head back, a perfect mask of ambivalence on his face. "You kill people," he said.

"I kill murderers, terrorists, crime bosses, prostitution ring leaders—"

"You kill people," he repeated.

Hermione momentarily lowered her gaze to his chest and then back to his eyes. "It's hard for me to think of them as people when they've committed such horrible crimes."

"I've done horrible things, so where does that leave me?"

"Have you ever snatched young girls from their families and sold them and their virtue to the highest bidder?"

He frowned.

"Have you stormed into a school and slaughtered everyone because the education of little girls and young women was taking place there? Have you ripped out the hearts of children to enhance your spell work? And if you decided not to kill them, did you suffer them to child prostitution? You are chaos and far from innocent, Loki Odinson, but your misdeeds are pink and fluffy compared to the men and women who've ended up on the wrong side of my wand."

She lifted the blade and then reversed it, pressing the handle into his chest in offering. He took it, and she started towards the stairs. Over her shoulder, she said massaging the bruises on her wrist, "I'm going to bed. _Alone_."

"You believe I think differently of you," he called after her from his chair.

She paused on the middle stair. "I know you do, but that's not what's going through your mind right now." He appeared at the top of the staircase, no longer dressed in his nice evening suit but in his full armor, helmet and scepter included. "You're thinking my world is self-destructive and in need of a firm hand to keep her children in line."

"I could give you a Midgard free from murder, rape, and slaughter. With you by my side as my queen, we could rule both dimensions this realm has to offer. Hermione, freedom is what made those beasts you justifiably killed. A freedom-less world is a peaceful one."

"Do not mistake pointing your scepter at the droves and saying _or else_ as peace."

"It's safe."

"For you. It's safe for you." She climbed the rest of the way and then sidestepped him to get around him. "And it wasn't freedom which caused those people to turn into monsters. It was pride, entitlement, selfishness, greed, lack of humanity. The list could go on. Loki, you could try and persuade in getting me to agree with you until you're _literally_ blue in the face, but I will never agree with you. I fought in a war for freedom. I suffered the marks from it." She scrunched up her sleeved and removed her glamour with the wave of her hand to reveal her Mudblood scar. "I'd suffer a thousand more to keep it—"

He kissed her. Long and deep. When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers, the metal of his helmet cool against her skin. "Beyond Yggdrasil are worlds like this one, millions and billions of people scattered across their lands. Each one of them are ran by a single government. Do you know why that is?"

"I don't care."

"You are so stubborn," he snapped and then kissed the spot between her brows before resting his chin atop her head. "I have to go, but sooner or later, I'll give you an answer whether you want it or not. Take care yourself." He palmed her belly. "This, too."

A peck on the lips later, and he was gone.

She retired to her bedroom and shoes and all, she fell boneless-like on the mattress. Her and Loki's date had not ended like she thought it would.

Never mind the internal conflict she had dinner, she ruddy well expected they were going to have sex. And _now_ …now they were both certain what was hidden underneath each other's fronts. She worked to kill, and he slaved to dictate. They sounded like such an unsexy and catastrophic couple, even to her own ears that she predicted sex with Loki was going to be put on hold for, like, indefinitely.

Who was she kidding?

Three months. She'd give herself three months, and then she'd be barking up his tree again all hussy-like because there was something about him she couldn't get enough of and _didn't_ want to.

Drumming her fingers on her belly, she said aloud, "Maybe he'll calm down a bit when you're born. You know, like, realize the important things in life. Because if he doesn't I'm going to have to…" She swallowed thickly and tears blurred her vision. "I'm going to have realize the important things, too, and I fear _I can't allow_ him make the cut."

To be Continued...


	14. Chapter 14

**Three weeks following Kos...**

Hermione decided that morning she wouldn't be taking her usual hike through the trees to bask in the beauty the fjord had to offer. The clouds were dark and threatening, looming over the area with promise to drench the land. She stayed in the cabin, keeping to her pajamas until late in the morning and discovered she was out of everything chocolate. It'd be an unpretty journey to town with the fat goblets of rain coming down, but it'd worth it.

Touching her belly while she scrambled to find at least one packet left of hot chocolate in the kitchen, she contemplated calling out to Loki and having him fetch her something. Anything, as long as it was chocolatey. It could be a celery, for Christ's sake. If bits were cut up into a jar of Nutella, she'd take it. Inhale it. Destroy it and demand more.

Aside from cravings, tender breasts, and a heightened scent of smell; Hermione was having a rather all right pregnancy. So far. She wasn't nauseous or irritable. Her nightly sleep was deeper, however, and she was as horny as a sixteen-year-old boy. It didn't matter what time of day it was, whether it was at night or eleven o'clock in the morning, sometimes all she could think about was Loki and how badly she wanted to tie him up and have her way with him.

Speaking of…

The wooing of her was over. The flowers on the table were dead as hell, and there hadn't been a new book on her bedside table since before Kos. On the other hand, the food in her pantry _did_ get restocked with wholesome and nutrient-rich items. In her medicine cabinet, pregnancy-beneficial teas and jars of herbs were cluttered together.

Throwing on a raincoat, Hermione retrieved the bicycle from the shed and magicked a basket to put in front of the handlebars. In town, she stopped at the quaint little bakery and purchased an adequate-sized box of chocolate dunked shortbread cookies and a bag of pudding mix. Down the street at the humble-sized shop with sky-high prices, she bought a tiny container of Nutella because that was the only size offered.

At the cabin, she stowed the pudding mix and Nutella away for later, she tucked into her box of cookies whilst gingerly flipping through one of the manuscripts Loki gifted her.

Hermione bristled, tenth or fifteenth cookie nearly touching her lips.

Someone just _touched_ her wards, and it wasn't Loki.

She closed the manuscript, hurriedly shoved the cookie into her mouth, and whipped out her wand. Looking out the kitchen window above the sink, she peered out into the front yard and saw a young woman with long, wavy dark hair on the outskirts of the ward-line. The young woman's dark eyes darted searchingly in front of her, her quaking, jerky fingers plucking at the ward like it was a string instrument.

"What in the hell…" Hermione stormed outside to get a better look. The young woman couldn't see her and shouldn't even be able to stand to look at the cabin. If she was a witch, she could've walked onto the property, opened the door, and introduced herself. This was no witch.

Taking in the tiny, red swirly balls erupting from the girl's twitchy fingers, Hermione's frowned deepened, and she stepped closer.

"What the bloody hell are you?" she whispered.

A man's bellow from behind the young woman both made them jump, and several heavily armed men dressed in black fatigues jogged up to the young woman who said in Ukrainian, possibly a Latvian accent, "There is something here."

"It's an empty cabin, Maximoff. We're moving on. Heading south to look there."

The young woman shook her head slowly, eerily. She pointed a finger and touched Hermione's ward, dragging it downward. "Don't you see that?" she asked.

One of the men scoffed and shook his head. "Now, Maximoff!"

The young woman glanced over her shoulder at him, glaring, before baring her teeth and clawing her fingers through the ward. Hermione barely had enough time to Disapparate inside her bedroom where her beaded bag waited for her in the drawer of her bedside table.

She'd been prepared for weeks.

Hermione yanked the bag from the drawer and heard the front door burst open and the dense thud of booted footfalls on her kitchen floor and on the bottom step of her staircase.

Securing the bag tightly against her and slipping her wand inside her sleeve, she was about to Disapparate but was enveloped in a death hold by a young man who _literally_ came out of nowhere. As she struggled against him, she noticed he was not dressed like the other men but in basic trousers, a stretchy pullover sweater, and running trackers.

"Stop struggling. You'll tire yourself out," he patronized, his accent like the young woman's.

Hermione did as he said and then pitched the crown of her head forward and slammed it into his nose as fast and quick as she could. He stumbled backwards, and she delivered a right hook to his jaw, a kick to his groin, and another kick underneath his chin when he was doubled over. The base of his skull hit the blinds and the window behind him with such force, it cracked the glass.

The young man now unconscious, Hermione shoved her hand into her bag and touched her wand, about to Disapparate when she heard a sharp _pew_ and then a sting sensation on her neck. Hissing, she plucked a tranq dart from her neck and dropped it on the floor, swearing. She glared hatefully at the unit of men entering her room, her vision askew.

"On your knees!" one of them shouted, and it sounded like he was saying it through water.

Not a problem. The floor was gaining on her, faster and faster it came, and so did nothingness.

* * *

Whatever she was laying on, it was akin to a concrete slab. Hermione opened her eyes, feeling wretched, actually and soon the memories of what happened flooded into her mind. She gasped and grabbed her belly and assessed herself, concluding the awfulness was not coming from there, but she was certain someone dropped a building on her head.

Licking her lips, she groaned. Her mouth was parched, and her tongue felt like pickled cardboard. She needed fluids and yesterday.

"Hermione?" said a voice, feminine and relieved. Well, sort of relieved.

Twisting her head, she focused her vision through the sturdy bars of the cell and saw an unwashed Darcy Lewis pressed up against the bars of the neighboring cell, and Hermione forgot her own ailing self and jumped off the rickety cot and zig-zagged her way towards the woman. Bracing herself against the bars, panting and feeling a wave of nausea hit her like a bus, she pressed her forehead to the cool, metallic bars.

"What are you doing here, Darcy?" she asked. "And where is _here_ exactly?"

"I was at a beach party. I'm pretty sure the guy who was chatting me up put something in my drink. I passed out and when I came to, I was here." Darcy bit her chapped bottom lip and swallowed. "That was maybe two days ago. I don't know where we are." She sniffed and folded her arms. "Somewhere cold."

"Have you seen anyone during that time?"

The young woman nodded. "A guard has come with water and nasty food several times."

"Anyone else?"

Darcy sniffed again, and she pressed her fingers deeply into her eyes, massaging. "I need my glasses," she muttered.

" _Darcy._ "

She nodded and sighed. "When I first woke up, there was a man standing outside my cell. He said he took me to get Jane's attention."

Hermione frowned, her grip tightening around the bars. "What does he want with Jane?"

"He didn't say."

"Darcy, do you know if we're in a HYDRA facility?"

"I don't know what HYDRA means, but yeah. I've heard that being said by the guard and overheard it on his radio." Darcy exhaled miserably, stepping away from the bars to sit down on her cot. "I get Jane and I are friends, but wouldn't they have taken you first? You're her family."

"They found you first." Hermione started to pace the cell, one hand skimming the bars, her brain scrambling to think what HYDRA could possibly want with Jane. Did they want her expertise, her science? Jane was brilliant, but wouldn't they want her mentor Dr. Selvig, as well? Maybe he was already here, and they needed the set.

Hermione had thought it best not to tell Darcy that she herself was probably taken for more than just grabbing Jane's attention. She was taken to get Loki's.

Her handbag was gone, and her wand was in it. Studying the cell door, yes, she could unlock it and escape. But there had to be cameras everywhere, and she couldn't and wouldn't leave without Darcy. She was just a girl, and Hermione was infuriated as hell she got dragged into this.

Dragging her feet back to the cot, she sat down and rested her head in her hands. Her instinct was to call out for Loki or even Thor, yet if HYDRA took Darcy to get something from Jane, it was likely Thor knew she was here. All of the Avengers would know and the fact they hadn't come to rescue Darcy yet meant they had to wait. For what, Hermione wasn't certain, but she could guess. The facility was heavily guarded and practically inaccessible.

Hermione got up and began to pace the cell, taking in her surroundings, specifically the kind of lock on the cell door, the cameras she could see, and the lights. She wasn't going to hang around and wait for the Avengers, or even Loki for that matter. He may not even come for her _because_ he assumed she was bait and also thought Thor would come for her eventually.

Or…he could come, anyway. She didn't know, honestly.

Two guards came to her cell, neither saying nothing, but she did hear a static-y voices being broadcasted over the radio clipped to his belt. Whoever was talking spoke in some Eastern European language, and Hermione picked up only a handful of words which were of little use to her.

Shit. Bathroom. Everywhere.

One of the guards opened the cell door and stalked towards her. She leapt from the bed and pressed her back against the opposite wall, her arms up defensively, ready for a fight. The man looked at her bemusedly and showed her his taser, a long baton-like weapon that pulsated electric blue light when he flicked it on.

"I recommend you come with us willingly," he said.

She cautiously lowered her arms, and he pocketed the taser, so he could roughly grab her by the upper arm and coerce her out of the cell and down a dank hallway. Darcy called after them, but she was ignored. The men escorted Hermione up a poorly lit flight of stairs and into a room with two chairs, a table with a cloth covered tray, and a trough-looking sink built into the wall. Like what she'd seen of the rest of the building, the room was dark, save for a three single uncovered bulbs dangling from the ceiling.

Hermione was shoved in one of the chairs, the one located towards the center of the room. Unlike the other chair tucked beneath the table, this was mounted into the floor with handcuffs clenched around the metal rods on the back of it. While one man put weight on her shoulders to keep her still, the other forced her arms behind the back of the chair and handcuffed her wrists.

She was beginning to get perturbed.

Having absolutely no interest in exploring where this scenario could possibly go, Hermione was about hiss out two irritated _Imperios_ when a third man entered the room. Unlike the other two, he was dressed finely in a crisp, pressed business suit and was of middle-aged years.

"Hello, Miss Granger," he started, dipping his chin. "My name is Mr. Strucker, and I'm sure you're wondering why you've been brought here."

"I think I know," she replied dryly.

He laced his fingers together behind his back and stood a few feet away in front of her. "Two months ago, you might've known. Circumstances have changed. Retrieving the scepter Loki took from us is no longer our top priority. Our organization is a great one, and we cannot afford to invest our energy in one thing. So while he's playing mind control with our lesser recruits, it's time for HYDRA to focus on the next phase. You're going to help us.

"Miss Granger, we did not take you from Norway to draw Loki in. I'd actually be quite surprised if he did show up with all intents and purposes to rescue you. Soon after taking Miss Lewis, we discovered she wasn't incentive enough for Dr. Foster and Thor to act quickly. We poured our resources into locating you, and we were not disappointed. Now Thor will come for you both and soon. When he does," Strucker pulled a vial out of his breast pocket, "this will be on you. On your arrival to the States, you are to fill this with his and Dr. Foster's child's blood. You will have seventy-two hours from the time Thor leaves with you. On the seventy first hour, you will be having a run in Forest Park in Queens, New York which is where you'll make the drop off."

Hermione looked from him to the vile and then back to him. "I refuse."

Stucker went up to her and put the vial in the pocket of her jacket. "Your parents' names are Daniel and Helena Granger. They are retired dentists and live in Surrey, England and are thinking about moving to Paris. I will kill them if you fail to comply with these orders."

Narrowing her eyes, she took a long, deep, and pensive breath. A touch of magic loosened the cuffs around her wrists, and she grabbed Strucker's gun from the holster on his hip, shooting him square in the chest and then turning to the startled guards and paying them the same respect. Wasting no time dwelling on the fact she killed and without strict order from the Mother Land, she grabbed one of the dead guard's guns, slipping the pistol in the back of her jeans. She grabbed his taser baton, as well, turning it completely off for the time being.

As she exited the room, she sent a wave of magic throughout her surroundings, short-circuiting any electronic-based device within fifty feet. Lights and hidden cameras burst while she sprinted down the stairs, and she muttered an _'accio handbag'_. There wasn't time to scour the property in search of her beloved beaded bag that had her wand, money, books, miscellaneous items, and most importantly her ferret figurine. The bag would have to come to her.

On the hallway leading to Darcy, Hermione slowed her pace and pressed herself against the wall. Around the corner, the sound of static from two radios tipped her off that there were guards. And from the abrupt sound of them breaking out into a run, Strucker and his guards must've been discovered. They ran her way and when they rounded the bend, she shot them both in the leg and knocked them out with her baton. She rather like it, actually. Perhaps she'd keep it.

Three more guards she had to subdue—and from one of them, she stole a cellphone—before reaching Darcy, and the girl nodded her head and crouched down in the far corner when being instructed to duck and cover. Hermione shot at the lock on the cell door and swung it open. "Come on. We need to hurry."

"How'd you get away?" Darcy blanched when Hermione yanked her gun out the waist of her jeans and shoved it into Darcy's hand.

"Later," Hermione said.

"I don't like guns."

"Me neither. I tend to shoot people when I have one."

"Can I have that instead?" She pointed to the taser-baton.

Hermione yanked Darcy by the elbow, and they started to run back down the hallway. On the way to the staircase, Darcy gawked at the unconscious guards they passed. "Holy shit!"

Waiting for them on the staircase was the young woman who ripped clean through Hermione's wards with nothing but her black nail polish and a snarl. Tiny reddish swirls of energy coated her quivering fingers, and Hermione decided it'd be best to shoot her. The girl jerked her forearms up, and the red energy billowed into a shield, causing the bullets to ricochet.

Darcy screamed and right then Hermione's bag came flying, the sling looping itself around her shoulder. The young woman stared, perplexed, and Hermione took advantage of it. She dropped her gun and pulled out her wand, hitting the girl with a strong and admittedly careless _Obliviate_ and then grabbed Darcy's hand, sending an _Imperio_ through her body which would deaden her senses before Disapparating outside the facility to get a brief look at where they were.

Studying the area, Hermione saw the facility was more like a compound or an old factory even, and it was located on mountain ledge a few miles away from a city. She Disapparated closer and lead Darcy down the cobbled streets, waving a cab down when she spotted one and having the driver take them to an inn. On the way there, she discovered the city was called Sokovia, a rather restless and unfortunate place. Like the inn the cabbie took them, too. Hermione paid him in U.S. dollars, slipping him two hundred for his swearing he never saw or serviced them. She treated the front desk clerk in the same fashion but with more money. Eight hundred dollars for their silence.

Counting the bills, the woman said while sliding Hermione a key across the stained counter, "Only one single bed. Television cuts out most of the time. Water temperatures are cold and lukewarm"

"It's perfect, thanks."

She pushed Darcy up the stairs and into their hotel room. "Lay down on the bed. Go to sleep," she commanded and closed the door, locking it.

While Darcy robotically complied with her demands, Hermione sat down at the tiny, off-balanced table and got out the cellphone she swiped from that guard. She removed the back of it, and Nott had shown her a trick…

Ah, yes. The GPS was disabled. Sliding the cover in place, she swiped at the screen and dialed Jane's number. Her cousin answered, her demeanor cautious.

"Jane-"

" _Hermione! What…HYDRA said they had you—"_

"They did. I got away. Darcy's with me. We're in Sokovia. You need to send Thor or Stark to come and get her."

" _We know where you are. Thor and Tony are on their way."_ Jane sounded both breathless and bewildered. _"HYDRA sent me a message. It was a video of you being put in a cell. I knew they had Darcy, and we didn't know…"_ She trailed off, her voice becoming quiet. Hermione could hear her cousin swallow. _"You were supposed to be safe."_

"Jane?"

Her cousin sniffed. _"I knew Loki was going to come for you that night. Thor let it slip earlier that day. He knew, too. I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I…was feeling petty about everything you keep from me. I'm so sorry. I regretted the moment we realized you were gone. Especially when your boss Theodore Nott completely went nuts and had to be escorted from the building."_

"Oh," Hermione said, long and slow as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, Jane. It's…it's done." It wasn't fine. Far from it. But it was done, and there were more pressing matters to tend to. As badly as she wanted to tear Jane a knew one, it would have to wait. Tossing Darcy a tender and tired look, Hermione continued, "But I can't come back with Thor and Stark. I imagine the Avengers don't think much of me right now."

" _That don't hate you. They're confused, and they'll get over it. Honestly, right now...Hermione, your thing with Loki would be far from their minds. If you even knew hafl the shit going on..."_

"I'm going to go into hiding again. This time much deeper, so I won't be found. People from work can help me with that."

" _But I need you here,"_ Jane said pleadingly. _"Thor does, too. The Avengers are falling apart, and neither of us know what to do. Which side to take. It's like they can't realize we need to be together right now. I'm not really sure how much you know or don't know, but we're, like, two months out from opening a hole to shove all of them into, so they can prevent another invasion."_

Hermione adjusted her phone and stared down at her stomach. As worrisome as Earth's future was, she couldn't afford to think that big at the moment. "Things sort of happened, and I'm…I'm pregnant, Jane." She sighed. "It's terrible timing, but it's happened, and I'm keeping it. I want to be safe. Being around the Avengers is too close to the fire for me. I mean I was just there. In the fire."

" _Oh, my God. Hermione."_ Jane sounded both admonishing, sympathetic, and worried. _"I don't know when, but soon I'll be going to Asgard. Thor thinks I don't know his plan about sending me back, but I do. You_ have _to come with me. This isn't a question. You know you do."_

A feint rumble of thunder could be heard from outside, and Hermione got up to part the shades and look out at the clouding sky. "I think Thor's coming. Call Tony and tell him we are at Spāre Inn. Darcy will be here. She's…unconscious. She took a bit of spill on our way out. I won't be here when either Thor or Tony come. I'm sorry—"

" _Wait!"_

"Goodbye, Jane."

Hermione hung up the phone and put it on the thin pillow beneath Darcy's head. With great care, Hermione lifted the _Imperio_ curse and cast a gentle _Obliviate_ , only needing to remove the young woman's last thirty minutes.

* * *

Wizarding Odessa was not a place Hermione fancied staying for an elongated amount of time. Much of magical Eastern Europe housed fairly strong anti-Muggle-Born propaganda. At the counter where she purchased a portkey, the woman behind the counter looked down at her and curled her lip when seeing her blood status on her travelling visa. The woman hurriedly took Hermione's money and stamped the booklet, like she didn't want Hermione sticking around longer than necessary.

Eighteen hours after leaving Darcy in that room, Hermione was on the Tube and heading straight to Surrey, to her parents. Her heart hammered inside her chest, her belly throbbing from fear. Her parents weren't answering the telephone. Again, she dialed their home phone number on the disposable cellphone she purchased in London and then continued onto her mum's cell.

In a blink and a side-glance, Loki appeared inside the cart dressed in business trousers and a smart vest. He stared at her haughtily behind a pair of glasses, casually holding onto the pole. Hermione blinked to be sure it was him. He looked different. Less…striking but still very handsome. His hair was lighter, almost a dishwater blond and his skin tone had a splash of color.

It was his smile that gave him away.

Lowering her phone, she frowned at him, worried he may be the reason her parents weren't answering the phone.

Loki let go of the pole and wove around a few people to sit down beside her. "My parents aren't answering the phone," she said. It didn't matter Loki was there disguised as a chic accountant or something. All that mattered was her parents and the threat Strucker tossed at her if she didn't comply. He was dead, but there were more HYDRA agents out there and killing Jane's aunt and uncle to get what they wanted was the only thing Hermione cared about in that moment.

He pulled a cloth out of his pocket which was when she saw the specks of red on his knuckles and the back of his hand. Offering her the cloth, he said, "You look affright. Wipe your face and put your hair up."

"Where are they? What did you do?"

Nothing. He couldn't have. He wouldn't. Why would he have?

Loki's features sharpened at her last question, and he flicked the cloth at her. "Your parents are alive, Hermione. They are alive and well and are currently in the backyard of their home, enjoying themselves whilst splitting a pitcher of chilled tea. Did you think I hurt them?"

"I don't know what to think. I don't know if you know, but the last twenty-four hours have been hell, and it came down to the fact that my mum and dad are in danger. I get here as fast as I can, and lo and behold, you are here—"

"I saved them."

Hermione stopped talking and let his words be heard. She clenched at the cloth he gave her and managed a quiet, horrified response. "HYDRA came for them."

"Did you miss the part where I saved them?"

Ignoring him for the moment, she put her hand on her heart and then on her stomach and she tried to catch her breath. Flashbacks bombarded her from another time of when she read about Muggle families being murdered, and she worrying her parents were next. At seventeen, she'd been so afraid her parents were going to die because of her. So afraid they'd be found. How could she have lost that throughout the years? Her life hadn't become any less dangerous, any less unsafe. And with Jane being with Thor and friendly with the Avengers, her parents were targets. They always had been, and it had only been recently Hermione realized that.

It was stupid and far too late to think such things, but then and there, she wished she'd never came for them after the war. She wished she had left them in Australia.

"Hermione, they're safe," Loki assured.

She shook her head. "They're not." Doing as he told her before, she wiped her face with the cloth and gathered her hair into a ponytail.

Originally, she'd planned to return to England to ensure her parents' safety and then she would go into hiding. Now, there wasn't a doubt in her mind on what she had to do. They were going to come with her, and their destination would have to change.

"You're going to take them and run," he deduced.

She didn't reply, her mind rushing to think of places to go. She knew people and those people knew people. he would decide the best place for them and fast. It wouldn't be Paris like they wanted, and it wouldn't be Australia, again. Greece and Norway were out of the question.

For the next few minutes, Hermione refused to even look at Loki, not because she was upset at him. She was grateful for his saving of her parents somewhere inside herself, but the need to think and plan and bloody scream from rage was almost too much to bear. She'd had a bad day.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a young woman move through the packed cart and sit down beside Loki, smiling her pearly whites at him. From the bounciness of her long blonde hair and the confident posture of her spine and shoulders, Hermione's horrid mood soured even further. It wasn't like there was a stadium between herself and Loki. Their legs and shoulders _were_ touching. At the given time, she couldn't find her voice to thank him for protecting her parents from HYDRA, but she wasn't aloof for Christ's sake. In a couple of hours when the shakiness and anxiety subsided just enough, she'd probably blow him.

"I like your glasses," complimented the young woman as she removed her cardigan to reveal how fetchingly she pulled off a sky blue halter top.

"They're quite nice, aren't they?" Hermione said before Loki could say something. "You should've seen his old ones. Dior for men, these ones." She rubbed her stomach. "Lucas, sweetheart, can we stop at Boots for some ice cream before we get home? The baby wants it."

The girl gave her and incredulous look, like she couldn't believe someone like Loki would ever associate himself with a woman like Hermione. Hermione resisted the urge to find a mirror and look at herself. Did she really look that bad?

Probably.

 _Stupid,_ she called herself. She had good reason to look the way she did. So bloody what that she didn't strut out of a goddamned HYDRA facility looking like a pouty runway model.

Hermione caught Loki's stare which was, not in fact, on her but on her stomach. Like he'd forgotten there was something in there probably worth worrying about.

"And…how is our little one today?" he said hesitantly.

"All she wants is chocolate." Hermione tried to smile when in reality a sonogram would do.

"I know you had a rough morning," he said.

Hermione only nodded and relaxed in her seat with a soft exhale, linking her arm through his hand resting her head on his shoulder. The prettiness and forwardness of the blonde girl didn't bother her anymore. Soon the Tube would come to a stop, and she and Loki could go to her parents where they were fine and alive.

* * *

"The two HYDRA agents sent to kill your parents cut the phone lines and blocked the airwaves with some sort of device," Loki explained in low whisper as she walked with him up the patio of her parents' front yard. "Thus, they couldn't answer your calls. They don't even know something's amiss."

Hermione got to the welcome mat and swallowed. "Thank you for saving them."

"I didn't know you were taken by HYDRA until I dealt with the agents," he said, his eyes searching her face. "You know why they took you, don't you?"

Her fingers found his, and they locked together, a sweetly intimate gesture of comfort. "At first I thought it was to get you there." She cleared her throat and wrinkled her forehead in dismay. "They wanted Daphne's blood. They expected me to get it for them. Like I would ever…God knows the kind of science they'd create with that."

She gnawed on her bottom lip and winced at the front door. "I was struck by a tranquilizer dart. I'm worried it'll have ill-effects on the baby," she confessed, sniffing. "What if I lost it, and I just don't know yet?"

Though his expression was perfectly schooled, he cupped her cheek and coaxed her close to him. She embraced him, her arms around his middle and her head resting on his chest. He ran a hand up and down her back, pressing the heal of his palm into all the aches and kinks he somehow knew about.

"I cannot stress enough how untimely it would be to have another. Furthermore, if you have, indeed, miscarried because of HYDRA and you are inconsolable from grief, I will give you what you want upon strict conditions."

Burying her face into his chest, she grumbled an "Ugh". He laughed and petted her head fondly.

"My pretty witch, the day is not over, and I haven't even properly met your parents yet. You should store your grunting for a more appropriate time."

"I'm going to hide them away."

"Yes, but shouldn't we say hello first?"

Grunting, she untangled herself from him and knocked on the door, partially opening to poke her head inside. "Mum? Dad? I'm home."

The house is just as she left it, perfectly tidy and smelling of floral candles. Her parents must still be out in the backyard, so she fully entered the home with Loki behind her. With his critical eye, he sweeps over his surroundings and curls his lip at the crucifix nailed to the wall of the entryway.

"You can sit on the couch," Hermione told him, gesturing to the sitting room. "Not the chairs. Those are my parents'. I'll go get them and let them know I'm here and I brought a guest."

"And you're going to make them leave," he added sagely.

"You make it sound like I'm actually going to sit them down and tell them." Hermione snickered weakly. "Tomorrow morning, they're going to have a strong inclination to join me in Costa Rica."

"So you've decided on a place already," he said, following her into the sitting room. Instantly, he was drawn to the mantle where framed photographs of her and parents resided. Surprisingly, he picked up the one of her mum and dad on their wedding day. It was taken on the steps of the of church, the bridesmaids and ushers and flower girls and the ring bearer crammed in with her parents.

He touched the glass covering the photo. "Jane wore something like this when she married Thor. The uncomely leaf tiara. Is that normal for Midgardian weddings?"

" _It's beautiful_ and tradition in my family." Hermione looked at the photo over Loki's shoulder. "Today, that's twenty thousand pounds of currency on her head, thank you very much. Jane's wasn't ugly either. That was _mine_ , and my dad had to sell his vintage Captain America trading cards he inherited form his dad to some silly Yank to pay for it."

Loki scoffed and put back the photograph. "Why didn't your mother let you wear hers?"

Hermione blinked and then avoided his face. "It was stolen when they lived in Australia."

"Did you parents marry in Greece?"

"They married here in Surrey at the Orthodox chapel. It's where I got married, too."

"Hm." Loki picked up another photograph, this one of Jane when she graduated from grad school. He thumbed the inner edge of the frame, frowning. "The picture's off."

"It's because it's been folded." Hermione took the picture from him and removed the back to unfold the picture. "This is Donald. He's unpopular among my family."

"What did he do?"

Hermione arched her brow and clicked her tongue, shooting him a coy yet cautious glance while reassembling the picture. "It's a long story. One I doubt you care about." Loki came up beside Hermione and studied another photograph, this one of Hermione on her first birthday. "Anyway, that's me. I had just turned one."

Hermione heard the back door slide open, and she darted into the kitchen to greet her parents. It was her dad coming inside with a rolled up newspaper in hand. When he saw her, he gave a little start and then smiled good naturedly. "What're you doing here, button?"

"I came home a little earlier than planned. I think I saw all that I wanted to in Norway." Hermione bounded over to him, embracing him tightly while her chest swelled from emotion. If Loki hadn't saved her dad or mum…

Her father patted her back and looked down at her. "And how's Janie and the baby? Oh, and what's his name? That man she ran off with. I know you sent your mother some pictures a couple months ago of the baby, but she's going to want more." He shouted for her mother and gestured for her to come inside. "Hermione's home, darling!"

"She is? But she didn't call."

Hermione's mother came inside and smiled in surprise at Hermione before hugging her, rocking from side to side. "This is a nice surprise. Is Jane here, too?"

"She's actually in New York right now."

Her mum let out a disappointed sigh. "Well, I wanted to meet this man who she up and left with. Seeing that baby girl of hers, and I might get over it, you know. You said she named her Daphne?"

"Mhm."

Helena tucked a piece of Hermione's hair behind her ear. "Well, that's…Hermione, did you cut your hair?"

"Oh, Mum." Hermione batted her mum's exploratory fingers and then locked her own behind her back. "I may not have brought Jane, but I did bring somebody."

Her parents exchanged glances. "Is that so?" her mum said slowly.

"He's in the sitting room." She shuffled into the other room, her parents close behind. Loki was still examining the photographs with great intensity, his back to them. Putting on her 'I'm so besotted and stupidly so' face, she dashed up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist and coerced him to turn around and face her parents.

"Lucas, these are my parents. Mum and did, this is Lucas. He's my—"

"Fiancé," Loki finished, and Hermione squeezed him tighter while her molars cracked against each other from pressure.

She was going to say _boyfriend!_

 _Boyfriend!_

She was going to kill him. Did even know the can of worms he just bloody opened?

What was she thinking?

Of course he did.

"Fiancé." Her father had not yelled, but his tone had deepened considerably. He looked down at her mother and said, "Did you know anything about this?"

"No," she replied, flustered, showing her palm as if she were _carefully_ trying to stop a car wreck. "Hermione, come and help me start dinner."

Hermione let go of Loki with a sigh and shot him a secret 'you're going to get it later' look while she walked passed him to get to her mother. She didn't get far before she was yanked backwards, Loki grabbed her hand, and pulled her into a kiss. The kiss itself was slightly more than a peck on the lips, but the timing wasn't exactly great. He may very well be Lucas Odell on the front, but he was all Loki on the inside. Such a diva, him. He loved putting on a show.

"Love you," he murmured close to her lips.

"I love you, too," she said sweetly, pretending that it wasn't the first time he'd actually told her that. Truthfully, her heart ached hearing him say it. He displayed the words for his own twisted benefit and not for hers and certainly not for her parents.

In the kitchen, her mum darts to the fridge and throws it open, poking the entire upper half of her body into the contraption. "Does Lucas like halibut?"

"I like him, Mum." Hermione would and could start out honest. The lies would come later.

Her mother sighed and closed the fridge, facing her daughter. "It hasn't even been a year since your divorce. You're rushing into this."

It was Hermione's turn to bury herself in something. She chose to burrow herself inside the pantry, her eyes roaming the shelves and noticing the practically hidden jar of Nutella behind the canisters of uncooked pasta noodles. She grabbed it and popped off the lid.

"Lucas wasn't supposed to say he said." She put the jar up to her nose and inhaled before dipping her finger into the goop.

She felt her mother's presence behind her, and the woman said, "So you're not engaged?"

An 'it's complicated' with Helena Granger was not going to fly, so Hermione looked at her over her shoulder and said, "It's going to be a very long one."

"That doesn't comfort me at all. There's too much room for temptation between engaged couples, and it worsens over time. Are you saying it'll be longer than a year?"

"Yeah." She faced her mother head on, the confession that she and Loki had crossed the line multiple times over on the tip of her tongue. The unhappy expression on her face stopped her. Still, Hermione thought it best to tell her, but perhaps not in such a disrespectful way. "Mum, I need to tell you something."

"Yes?"

"Well, it's going to sound impossible to you, but I'm pregnant."

Her mum put a hand over her heart and breathed in. "Oh," she said and turned on her feet to rest against the island. She watched her mother rub her chest and then her neck, the motions pensive and unsure. Soon, her mother spoke again, saying, "I'm going to…skip over some things for now and get straight to the point. How is that even possible _?_ "

"There was this trial program thing in Wizarding Oslo. I signed up for it, and it wasn't to get pregnant but to start feeling like a woman again. The illness, you know it made me weak. My bones weren't as good, and I wasn't menstruating. The prescriptions weren't doing enough, so I entered the program. Within a month, I was bleeding again and I could exercise comfortably. I'm all but cured." She palmed her stomach and smiled. "I know mine and Lucas's situation isn't to your liking, but I am very happy about this. This is what I've wanted for a very long time."

Her mother's features softened but only just. "Does he know you're a witch?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but I would be grateful if we didn't bring it up at the dinner table tonight. When I'm in the wizarding parts of the world, I'll be a witch. When I'm here, I prefer to be a Muggle."

Helena dipped her chin and then wandered her brown eyes around the kitchen thoughtfully before resting them again on her daughter. "Travelling in your condition hasn't agreed with you, sweetheart. Go upstairs and get cleaned up. I'll take care of dinner."

"Lucas—"

"Will be fine in Daddy's company. Besides, it won't hurt for them to get to know each other. But I'm sure you father is giving him an earful. Doesn't your fellow know how indecent it is not to ask the father for his blessing?"

On her way to the stairs, she saw Loki sitting relaxed and unperturbed in her mum's chair as her dad glowered at him. Neither of them were speaking, and Hermione had the feeling very few words were even exchanged since she left the two men alone at her mother's request.

"I'm going to go upstairs and get washed up," she said. "I'll be down in a little bit. Both of you, please behave."

Hermione washed up in her parents' bathroom and then spent a good thirty minutes on her disposable cellphone.

* * *

Hermione considered how her mother reacted to the news of her being pregnant. Things definitely could've gone worse, but Hermione she wished her mum would've at least smiled and showed a little excitement at finally being a grandmother. Alas, her mum's feelings probably dwelt in the bittersweet side of things. Helena Granger was Helena Granger, and she was going to change her views on life, even when her daughter and the rest of the world didn't share them.

At the dinner table, Hermione concluded that her father and Loki hadn't said a word to each other while she was upstairs. Or probably at all, really. While her mother placed the pasta pot in the middle of the table, Hermione smiled brightly, too brightly, and said, "So how're you and Mum, Daddy?"

"We're looking at some real estate in Paris."

Underneath the table, Hermione felt Loki cup her knee which she ignored. "Oh? Are you thinking of selling the house?"

Her parents' plans mattered little to Hermione, but she'd make small talk to break the ice.

Scooping out a polite portion of pasta onto his plate and then picking up the salad bowl, he put his eyes on Loki and said, "Were you planning on asking me for my blessing?"

" _Dad._ "

Loki smiled good naturedly at the man and began drawing lazy patterns on her patella. "Forgive me, Mr. Granger. I'm a man unaccustomed in asking for the things I want. My instinct is to take."

" _Lucas._ " Hermione clenched her teeth and shot Loki a bemused glare. "I'm sorry, Dad. Lucas thinks it's funny to joke around about such things. Of course he was going to ask for your blessing. Weren't you?"

Loki's grin turned wide as he took her wine glass and filled it with ice water from the pitcher in the middle of the table. "Let us tell them about our first date."

Hermione frowned and took the glass from him, sipping on it worriedly. "Well—"

"Where did you two meet? I'd like to know that," her father said, pointedly biting into a bowtie noodle.

"Me, too," her mother chimed, nodding.

"We met—" Hermione tried. Oh, she desperately did.

"Hermione didn't get a chance to explain before, but Jane's husband is my stepbrother. We met at brunch the day before the wedding."

She knew if she sighed and hung her head, it would give her guilt away, and her parents would think less of her. They knew full well she was still technically married to Ron when their niece married despite the separation. They would think—

Her mum quickly put a hand on Hermione's. "Hermione, please don't tell me you went through with the divorce because of him."

Or they'd think it anyway.

Helena's voice had been low but certainly not low enough to exclude the two men from hearing what she said.

"Ron and I were separated," Hermione reminded, like it mattered with her mother.

"It was love at first sight." Loki leaned back in chair while traced the rim of his wine glass with the tip of one long finger. "For me. But it wasn't until our first date that I realized I wanted her for forever. We went boating, didn't we, Hermione? You were snacking on apples."

Hermione regarded him with a dark look. If he brought up in front of her parents how she stripped on that boat to deter the conversation they'd been having, she'd shove his plate in his face and hex him impotent for a decade. He'd already cast shame upon her by being too ruddy honest. It was like he was trying to give her sweet, gentle mother a heart attack while simultaneously giving her father reasons to hate him.

Lucas was supposed to be charming and brilliant, not purposefully idiotic and unlikeable. If she wanted to bring Loki home, she would've told him to wear his bloody horned helmet.

"It may seem insignificant to some and perhaps even ridiculous," Loki continued, "but when she ate one of the apples she packed for us, I knew there'd be no one else for me." He cupped Hermione's face, making her flinch and she tossed him a startled look. "I love you, Hermione. From the moment I saw you across the table in your cousin's dress trying to ignore everyone in the room, you had my heart. On that boat, I knew I'd do anything to get yours. _Anything_."

"L—"

"You _are_ enough, Hermione."

"…"

"Hermione, do I have your heart?"

She blinked, her jaw slacking. The atmosphere around the dining table went from uncomfortable to awkward as hell, yet her head spun and tears of frustration and relief threatened to invite themselves to dinner. Loki was well and truly an arse! He had every chance in the world do confess all of this to her, and he decided to do it now? In front of her parents? Her parents who don't get it and probably never will? Did he think he was being romantic?

Probably not.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and she shouldn't have got lost in his words. But hearing she was enough for him was too sweet and too wonderful. He was choosing _her_ , and he was letting her know in his own horribly inconvenient way.

Sighing, she gifted him a tired smile because yes, he did have her heart. He'd had it not on the first glance but the second. "I'm afraid so," she said softly.

Her father cleared his throat, sawing into his halibut. "Have you set a date for the wedding yet?"

"Hermione told me they wouldn't be getting married for a while," Helena commented and then looked at her daughter. "Is the pasta all right?"

Nodding, Hermione understood what her mum was asking. She wanted to know if it was all right for the baby.

"If you two love each other so much, why wait?" her father asked.

Loki opened his mouth to answer, and Hermione jumped in before he decided to be honest and tell them he was already married. "We decided when we got married, we'd both retire. Lucas wants to work a little longer, and he's so busy with that. We see so little of each other right now. It was…unexpected that he came here with me."

Kissing her temple, Loki said, "I had to meet your parents, didn't I?"

She smiled painfully at her plate. "Yeah."

* * *

"A game of Scrabble, anyone?" her mother chirped, hopeful and sweet. It was an adorable attempt at lessening the awkwardness in the house. All of them were lounging the sitting room twiddling their thumbs. Hermione just wished her parents were like other old people and would go to bed at seven. She could _force_ them to sleep…

No, she couldn't. She was already planning a much bigger spell for them once they did retire for the night.

"But we're not caught up on _Downton Abbey_ ," her father lamented and started critically at Loki. "Do you watch it?"

"Who?"

Her father sighed and said pointedly to Hermione, "Even Ron watched it. This is what you brought home?"

"Daniel."

"Dad."

"I don't care for…television," Loki said crisply. "I prefer to read like your daughter."

"My daughter watches television."

"Only a little bit, Dad," Hermione said. Only _Downton Abbey._

"This History Channel has got a good one. _Vikings._ You'd like that. You were in Oslo. I'm sure you read up on all that history, didn't you, sweetheart?"

Her mother clicked her tongue. "That show is far too violent and the gore…" She flicked her hand dismissively. "We don't need that tonight, Daniel."

"And we need Scrabble?"

"It was a suggestion." She huffed and gave an apologetic stare to Loki. "Well, surely you like movies," her mother offered to Loki and then tapped her chin pensively. "We have _Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Monty Python_ , and a great deal of Disney in our collection. _Beauty and the Beast_ is a favorite of Hermione's. Oh, and we have every _Sherlock Homes_. Do you like Shakespeare? We have a decent collection."

"Mum, just pick something for us, all right?" Hermione said, baring her teeth in annoyed grin.

"So you let your mother pick," her father remarked sullenly.

" _Fine._ " Hermione hoisted herself up from the couch. "I will pick."

She opened the cabinet of the entertainment center and grabbed the first thing her fingers came in contact with and then snorted when seeing it was _The Other Boleyn Girl._ Seriously, her parents had _this_? _Why?_

Opening the DVD case, she discreetly shoved the disk into the player and turned on the telly. "Who's up for historical semi non-fiction?"

The menu came on the screen, and her mother groaned. "Hermione, really?"

"You had it in your stuff. I doubt Dad bought it."

"I purchased it for the costumes." Her mum pinned Loki with a dramatic expression. "The clothes are sublime. Anne Boleyn's dresses perf... _Oh,_ iced tea? Iced coffee? Hot chocolate even though it's so muggy outside?"

"May I have some tea? _No._ Hot chocolate. For both of us. And please, not the sugar-free." Hermione plopped back down beside Loki who frowned intently at the menu on the screen.

Following the movie, her parents invited to Loki to stay in the _guest bedroom_ if hadn't yet made other sleeping arrangements. He accepted, and they all retired upstairs. Hermione showed him the guest bedroom, and her mother handed him a stack of clean towels and asked if he needed a toothbrush or even a complete oral hygiene kit.

"I'll get you one," she said, dipping her chin. "By the way, my husband's too proud to say this, but you have excellent teeth." She winked at her daughter and smiled half-heartedly. "He has excellent teeth, Hermione."

"It's…why I fell in love with him." Hermione returned the same smile, shrugging one shoulder. "Because of his teeth."

"Who's your dentist? Who was your orthodontist when you were younger? How long did you have your braces?"

Loki furrowed his brow.

"Mum."

"What? Dentistry is a small community—"

"It is not."

Her mum exhaled softly. "You know I have to tell your father about the baby very soon. He might not take it as well as I am."

"You told her," Loki said, raising his brows at Hermione.

"Yes, because you were _so_ happy when I told you," Hermione said to her mum.

"Sweetheart, you know me and my beliefs on how children should come into the world." Her mum tucked a strand of hair behind Hermione's ear. "I have a right to that opinion. Mock me all you want. _However,_ despite my stance on this, I am very much looking forward to being a grandma. I know it's probably too early, but we should go shopping tomorrow. Start getting things for the baby. And we should schedule a baptism now with Bishop Wells. What's your due date?"

Hermione hugged her mum, squeezing her tight. "I don't think it's even really hit me, yet, you know?"

"It will. When your clothes don't fit anymore and you feel the baby kick, it will," her mother assured.

Her mum made sure Lucas was comfortably in his room and Hermione in hers, both doors closed, before disappearing into the master bedroom. Hermione kept her ears alert, listening for the click of her parents' lock. Once hearing it, she slowly turned her doorknob and then sighed when feeling a presence behind her. Looking over her shoulder before facing Loki, she saw _Lucas_ was gone. The suit, the lighter hair, the crystal clear blues, and sun-pecked pallor had been replaced by greenish eyes and leather, deep black hair, and pale white skin.

Loki laid on her childhood bed, one arm tucked behind his head and legs crossed with his eyes trained on the ceiling. There was a bit of room between the edge and his side, so she sat down next to him. "I was going to blow you, but then you made my evening a nightmare. I had to tell my mother I'm going to have a baby out of wedlock and worst of all, I had to watch _The Other Boleyn Girl_. I almost wish I never left Sokovia."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he flicked his focus on her. "Blow?"

Hermione didn't know any Asgardian euphemisms for oral sex, so she darted her gaze at a certain part of him and then nodded slowly. "You would've liked it."

"You chose the film _and_ to tell your mother. I had no part whatsoever, and they are not reasons why you won't show your appreciation for my saving of your parents."

"The very fact you were here in the house led to one thing after another."

"I thought you wanted me to meet your parents."

"Not…not like this. Not on a day like we've had, and I wanted you to meet my parents _before_ I found out you were married. Plus, you were not behaving at all. You were acting like _you_ every time you opened your mouth. A part of me is grateful you didn't speak as often as you could've."

"It's funny." He grinned lazily, and she knew whatever was about to come out of his mouth was going to be the exact opposite. "When we first met, you were about being truthful and accused me of how weak lies actually were."

"I didn't want to unman my parents, Loki."

"Oh, so there's a time a place for honesty and a time and place for lies. I understand."

"Which I'm sure you have for a long time." Despite herself, she reached for him, caressing his face followed by a yawn.

"You should sleep a little while."

Hermione shook her head, sweeping the span of her room with forlorn expression. "Everything in this house has to be packed up by dawn. My parents' flight leaves at nine sharp."

"You seem to have everything in order," he commented suspiciously.

"There was a reason why I took so long to shower earlier. I was on the phone getting their flight and living arrangements all ready."

Loki was silent for a moment, and he shifted his gaze back to the ceiling. "And I gather you'll be joining them."

"...yes. But I'll also be spending quite a lot of time in _my_ part of the world. There's a wizarding population in Limon. I'll have a flat there."

His jaw ticked, and she knew he was displeased to the point of throwing a tantrum. "If we were together like in Asgard, you wouldn't even consider that."

"But we're not, are we?"

"You'll only be with me if I'm knocking on Hel's door or as a reward for doing something amicable. I'd pleasure you without all that nonsense. You need only beckon me."

Hermione cast her eyes down and got up from the bed to start a slow, pensive pace. "You still don't understand."

"What?"

"That you hurt me, and it was the _same way_ in which you disappointed when your father didn't pick you."

It was as if she slapped him, and he actually _felt_ the blow given the look he gave her. "Hermione-"

"Your father was _always_ going to pick Thor, and it was wrong for him to make you think you had a chance to be king. Just like it was wrong for you to make me believe I could be your wife when I wasn't because you already made your choice."

"That is-"

"You were so put out, Earth felt your wrath repeatedly. I think it's fair, Loki, for me be feel a fraction of that anger towards you. Yes, I slept with you because I thought you were going to die. Yes, I accepted your gifts because I liked them and I was flattered, but I can't help but feel how we are never going to be where we were. You made me think my eternity wasn't going to be so bad after all. And it wasn't so much a trick as it was blatant lie, I know."

He flared his nostrils and sat up, ready to engage and defend himself and his pride anyway could. She beat him to it by cupping his face and softening her tone. "I love you, Loki, but I'm so angry. At times, I forget, but it's still there. It hasn't gone away, and it won't for a long time." She dropped her gaze. "If we both have that long. You should know that I do think the apple's magic is reversible. I may choose to go back to being mortal after this is all over."

She watched his lips press together thinly and then say, "I chose you, Hermione. _That_ was not under pretense."

Her heart did some strange flutter, but her smile was a little sad. "After the invasion, if we win and you cough up the scepter and somehow swindle your way out of treason again, our problems still won't be over. Loki, I don't want to live forever unless it's with you." Her throat started to swell, and she cleared her throat. "I want to be your wife, not you _Midgardian_ mistress who bore you a bastard and has the audacity to show up at court and mingle with the king and queen. I deserve better than that. Don't I?"

To be Continued...

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry for any errors. Please read and review. I hope you guys liked the chapter! :)


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Thank you, readers and reviewers and followers and those who've put this story on their favorite list! I'm hoping you guys are digging the story.**

 **I present Chapter 15. I hope you guys like it. Tell me what you think, and I hope you enjoy. :)**

* * *

The cab came to a stop in front of the two level villa, and Hermione was so relieved to get out of the vehicle and stretch her legs. Arching her back and cupping the base of her skull, she popped the kinks out before facing the inevitable. It came in the form of Theodore Nott this time. He sat on the porch steps, getting up when seeing her come closer to the house.

"Thank you for arranging this," she said, climbing up the few porch steps and embracing him. Her face was at first buried his shoulder but then moved it, so he could hear her when she spoke. "I should've never involved myself. I should've left before. The moment I got to New York."

Nott's hold on her was tighter than she expected. "There were days I thought you dead."

Guilt hit her like a dandelion being crushed by a rollover car. He didn't have the whole story, and she'd be damned—quite literally—if she confessed it. As sentimental as Nott was felt, it'd dry up like the Sahara if she belayed the truth. The truth being she fell in love with a kook who pulled that stint in Stuttgart and New York City three years ago which led to him snatching her from Stark Tower and stowing her away in Norway where she willing chose to dwell to ensure her own safety in the midst an inter-intelligence war between the Avengers and HYDRA.

Theodore Nott knew very little of the what's and the why's, and the day before when she was in Surrey and on the phone with him, she got an idea of everything he didn't know which was just about everything. Jane lied to Nott big time. Apparently, after Hermione was snatched from Stark's tower, Jane told him she sent her cousin to Asgard out of protection. It was both a brilliant and terrible lie.

Nott had seen it as more of the latter. Nonetheless, he couldn't get anywhere with the Avengers. Not only had he been escorted from the property that night of the party, he was prohibited from visiting. The whole thing shouted conspiracy, and he had no leads.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I really am. I was forced out suddenly. I had no idea Jane planned-"

"You don't need to be sorry." He sounded exasperated.

"I didn't want to go to Asgard. It was entirely inappropriate how my supposed protection was handled. Jane didn't even ask me if I wanted to go. She was just _so_ worried I was going to get caught in the crossfire—"

"And you don't need to explain."

"What about my debrief?"

"You're not working for me anymore."

" _Oh._ "

Nott parted from her and pinched her chin. "I can't have pregnant agents employed in my branch. Consider yourself fired as of the moment you conceived, Granger."

Hermione stepped back from Nott and furrowed her brow. "How did you know?"

He lowered his focus from her face. "Asgard couldn't have been all bad, I take it."

"How'd you know?"

"When you stretched, your shirt rode up and you're barely starting to show. More noticeably is your rack."

Hermione blinked and then folded her arms and turned away from him and faced the door, nudging her head at it. "Shall we?"

Nott pulled a keyring with three sets of keys on it and shoved one into the doorknob. Looking back over his shoulder, he called out to Hermione's parents who were lugging their bags towards the porch. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, it's a pleasure to see you again."

"Theodore," Hermione's mum greeted brightly. "Hermione didn't say you were the real estate agent she went through. You should join us for dinner. We passed that one place, didn't we, Daniel?"

"I'd be most obliged, Mrs. Granger." Nott pushed open the door for them and waited with Hermione to follow them inside once her parents crossed the threshold.

The villa was lovely, and Hermione was able to smile as she watched her parents fall in love with the place. Her mother gushed over the pool out in the backyard while her father scratched his chin at the empty shelves in the den. While the two continued to acquaint themselves to their new home, Hermione wheeled one of her bags into the sitting room and unzipped it. Throwing open the top flap, she unsheathed her wand from her purse and retrieved her parents shrunken belongings, spelling them to enlarge once they hit the floor.

"You must've been busy last night," Nott commented, shoving his hands into the pockets of his khakis.

"I didn't sleep if that's what you mean."

"Was it hard doing this? It's not like Australia. They're not going back, and it was your childhood home."

"It was unpleasant." Hermione reflected how void of love her home had appeared right before she left it. Each room and each shelf were left with nothing. Dust and secrets stains had been obliterated and cleansed with the touch of her wand. The walls, where some had wallpaper and others had borders, now were starch, hospital white. The vegetable garden in the backyard and the rose garden up front were extracted and replaced by grass. The white fence bordering the property was gone. The entire area one blank space, practically.

To some, Hermione's actions may seem overkill, but she wanted those who were looking for her or her parents to stop and scratch their heads when investigating their disappearance. She wanted to stump them. Her parents needed to be safe.

After getting the last of her parents' things out of the suitcase, Nott asked, "Would you like to see your room?"

"I'm not living here."

"But you'll be staying over plenty, I imagine."

He led her upstairs to a second master bedroom. It was nice and spacious, and Nott pointed to a windowed nook close to the far corner. "You could put the bassinet there."

Hermione didn't reply, both leaving the room when her mum called for them downstairs. From the looks of it, her dad had changed shirts and her mum spruced up a bit, combing her hair and spraying a bit of spritz on herself

"It looks like you're ready for dinner. I'll drive and then let you borrow my car tomorrow. I'll get you set up with a rental as soon as possible, so you can go out for your errands," Nott offered politely. If Hermione's parents only knew the way the man treated her when he was miffed at her. She would not forget how he pushed her twice on that ice rink. And when they sparred, he never relented. He never softened for her. He'd constantly remind her how her enemy wouldn't give a shit that she was a woman and a delicate-looking one at that.

But...she knew he wanted her to be a survivor which came with harsher kinds of discipline. It meant branching out from basic wizard hit squad training and becoming familiar with Muggle methods of self-defense and weaponry. When Hermione first handled a pistol, Nott had been the one to give it to her. At her first lesson in the firing range, he stood behind her and watched her, utterly disappointed, miss every. Single. Target.

Dinner was a nice affair. Hermione, ravenous and on the brink vomiting because of her hunger, eagerly tucked into the bread that was brought out before the meal. Nott pursed his lips at her, and he scratched his five o'clock shadow. "Don't be skipping any meals, Granger."

"It's not on purpose when I do," she retorted. "How's New York? How's Remington? Don't you have him for the summer?"

"Remington?" her mum piped, bringing her wine glass to her lips. "Is that your son, Theodore? I didn't know you had a son. How old is he?"

"Do you have a lady friend?" Her father winked, setting down his own wine glass. He cleared his throat and put his eyes on Hermione. "Has Hermione told you all about hers?"

"My, my. I wasn't aware Hermione had a lady friend." Nott quirked his lips in a smirk. "And here I thought I had you sussed out."

"The wine's getting to me already," her dad said, chuckling. "I meant she's—"

"Dad," Hermione interjected pointedly.

"So he doesn't know?"

"Now's not really the time," she said, avoiding Nott's questioning expression.

"Perhaps she's right," Nott said. "Besides, the conversation was initially about me, and what can I say? I kind of like that." He sipped at his beer and tapped his fingers on the side of the bottle. "New York is fine. Well, it was when I left. I'm living here now. In Limon. Nice place to retire from the big job and enjoy the real estate business"

"What?" Hermione furrowed her brow.

"And Remington loves it down here. He's with his nanny, and they're collecting seashells on the coast tonight."

The small talk diminished when their meals were brought out. When Hermione was halfway through her pile of lime, cilantro rice and black beans when sensing eyes on her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she casually swept her surroundings, spotting Loki at the bar. He appeared more like Lucas than Loki, and he wore a loose white shirt and khakis. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he saluted her with his full glass of frothy beer.

Hermione promptly decided to ignore him, putting her full attention on her plate and nothing else.

When she had asked if he thought she deserved to have a future to her liking with him, he didn't answer and thought it a splendid time to disappear from her bedroom. She had checked the guest bedroom, and he wasn't there. After an hour of not necessarily waiting but loading up her parents' things, she concluded he wasn't returning.

She and the others finished their meals, Hermione was surprised to see Loki still at the bar but was even more surprised by Nott failing to notice the creepy tourist eye-raping the table.

"We can drop off your parents and I can show you your flat," Nott offered. "If you're too tired, we can wait until tomorrow."

"I'm all right. I slept a lot on the plane."

They left the restaurant and piled into Nott's convertible and drove back to the villa. Hermione waved goodbye at them, and her mum promised there would be an air mattress made up for her when she got back. Her parents were much too exhausted to be setting up furniture.

"Thanks, Mum."

Once her parents were safely inside the house, Nott turned the car around and started towards town again. Hermione rolled down the window and let the cooling, evening air kiss her face. She could smell the salt of the ocean and almost hear it crashing into the shore even though there was dense thicket of trees bordering the road.

"Your stalker isn't going to make himself a problem, is he?" Nott said, his tone casual.

Hermione kept her eyes on the scenery passing them by. Damn! "No."

"What is he to you?"

"Someone I left in Asgard when I came back," she lied.

"He's the one who broke your heart when you were there with your cousin," he assumed and correctly so. "Is he the father?"

She nodded.

"Is he involved with you or with baby?"

She shrugged and sighed, facing him. "It really is complicated. He lied to me about a few things which were really important."

"Are you together?"

"So you retired?"

"We'll get to that. I want to know if you and this _alien_ are an item. From the way your father reacted at dinner, I'm thinking you are."

"They think what they think, but I honestly don't know. He's…high maintenance."

Nott snorted and tossed her an incredulous yet endeared glance. "He probably thinks the same about you. And if that's his biggest fault…"

"I wish it were."

"Do you love him?"

Hermione blew out an unhappy breath and rested her elbow by the window, propping her head up. She didn't answer him.

They stopped at his house first which was ten or so miles north from her parents. His villa was bigger and more luxurious than theirs and clearly had to be ran by a staff.

Parking the car in the roundabout driveway, they got out of it and went inside the house. Like his flat before, Nott's home was decorated simple yet tasteful. There was not an unnecessary decorative item in sight. There were no empty vases on tiny tables and no sentimental, non-working grandfather clocks. The pictures on the walls were of scenery rather than of family.

"Remington is in the pool," said a maid who came into the room. "Would you like me to get you and your guest a drink?"

"Coffee for me. Ginger ale and lime for her."

When the maid left, Hermione commented with a slight smile. "She's pretty."

He slid open the backdoor. "She's young."

"And that's bad?" Hermione stepped outside and smirked at Remington who was face down doing laps like his life depended on it. A woman, also young and equally pretty, sat on one of the closest lounge chairs with her wand in her lap. She looked up from her cellphone to wave and smile at them.

"He loves the pool," she said, gesturing to the boy. "He's probably going to need a second dinner when he's out."

Remington stopped his strokes and removed his goggles to look at his dad and say, "I'd rather have a second dessert. Oh…hey, you're Hermione Granger. You disappeared that night at the Avengers' party. Where'd you go? Everyone was so worried."

Hermione knelt down by the edge of the pool, and the boy bobbed his way over to her. "I went to Asgard," she said quietly. "And it's a secret. You mustn't tell anybody."

"Wicked," he replied in an awed whisper. In a normal voice, he asked, "Do you wanna swim?"

"I don't have a suit."

"I'm sure we have one around here somewhere you can borrow."

"I don't know. Your father and I—"

"You're tense. A little swim will do you good."

"Theodore," she remarked reprovingly, standing straight to glare up at him.

"We're going to Disapperate from here anyway to get to your flat."

"I don't really want—"

"Of course you do," interrupted Remington, and he did a front flip in the water. When he emerged, he continued, "Everyone likes swimming. My dad's going to."

Nott patted her shoulder. "Best get used to it now. Your kid will rule your life. When they say you swim, you better do it."

He led her upstairs to a spare bedroom. He gestured to the dresser and explained there should be a suit in there somewhere. When he left, she rifled through the drawers and found them stuffed full of clothes, both for men and women. The closet shared the same state. There were dresses and men's trousers, casual and formal, all lined up on the hangers. All the clothing made her doubt Nott had actually _retired_.

In the black one piece she picked out, Hermione checked out her reflection in the vanity, turning to the side and put a hand on her stomach. The big dinner mixed with the suit, she could see the slight outward curve she was sporting. She still worried about that tranq she got hit with two days before, but so far, there hadn't been cramping or bleeding.

Down at the pool, Nott was already horse-playing with his son. Hermione grinned at the two as they splashed each other. He really was a good dad, even though it had taken him longer than most to get there. He'd been mostly concerned about the dog when Greengrass left him. A long while after that, Nott threw himself into his work. He actually didn't see Remington for the first time until the boy was about eighteen months.

Hermione sat down on the ledge and stuck her legs in the water, every once in a while flinching when feeling the power of the splashes coming from the boys.

Soon, Remington put up his hands in surrender. "No more. You're king, Dad. I'm done for," he announced breathlessly.

"Are you giving up, boy?"

Remington widened his eyes and placed them pleadingly on Hermione. She took sympathy on him and lowered herself into the water and used as much force as she could with a dash of magic to splash Nott. She cackled at his glowering face and repeated her actions.

"Using magic is against the rules, Granger," he said darkly, moving out of the way from the wave of water.

"What are you going to do about it?" she sassed and then winked at Remington. "Let's get him."

They bombarded him mercilessly until he was able to grab one of them which happened to be Hermione. She shrieked which was cut shore when he dunked her. Surfacing, she spat out the water she accidentally swallowed onto his face and laughed.

"Oh, no! You got Muggle-Born backwash all over your face! You're contaminated now!" Remington exclaimed dramatically.

Nott bristled and Hermione snorted. The playful atmosphere dissolved, and Hermione touching his hunched shoulder. "It's all right. He was joking."

"We do not _joke_ about such things," he snapped at his chagrinned son. "Not in my house."

"Theodore, it's all right. _Really_. I thought it was funny."

He ran a hand down his face. "I think you've had enough swimming tonight, Remington. Go inside and get ready for bed."

"Yes, father," he muttered sullenly and paddled to the corner and climbed out of the pool. He grabbed a towel from the shelf beside the sliding glass door and wrapped himself up snuggly before rushing inside the house, undoubtedly creating a water path up to his bedroom.

Hermione sighed and arched her brow at Nott. "That wasn't necessary."

"He needs to learn it's not okay to joke about that shit because he sure as hell won't from his mother."

"Well, I wasn't offended."

"That's because you knew he wasn't serious. Someone else might not. I guarantee you if he said that in front of one of Potter's kids or even your ex-husband, I'd never hear the end of it."

For the next minute or so, they stood in the pool, awkward silence settling between them. The fun was over, and Hermione was now very aware she had never seen Nott this undressed before, for he was only in a pair of black swim trunk. Still, it wasn't his defined torso that she kept trying to avoid but his Dark Mark. It was grey and faded on his tanned forearm and looked like a regretted tattoo he might've gotten in his rebellious youth. She'd seen it before. He didn't exactly hide it, but nor did he so eagerly display it. If anything, he ignored it and when he caught people staring at it, both magical and Muggle, he never addressed it.

Like now. Hermione knew he was watching her stare at the Dark Mark, but he wasn't saying anything. Eventually, she distracted herself by floating on her back and staring up at the sky. The sky had darkened considerably and stars were starting to become visible. She thought of Loki. She always did when looking at the sky even though she knew he wasn't up there.

Poor prick. He was likely frustrated at being unable to cross the property and spy on her. Hermione had felt the wards long before the driveway. They were layered on thick and complicatedly interwoven. Even to an impressive mage like Loki, it would take him hours to even crack a single protection spell.

It was becoming tiresome, this whole punishment gig she kept dealing out to him. She really needed to stop, not because she felt as though she were being too harsh with him, but because she was beginning to believe he may actually choose her. As much as it had hurt her that he'd been married to someone else, there was nothing either of them could do at the moment to fix it. Loki couldn't prepare to face Thanos as well as hunt down his estranged wife.

And then there were his annoying quirks such as his carefully coifed underhanded front he put on in front of her parents. Hermione wanted to blame the tension that settled between herself and her parents on him, but she hadn't told him to leave when he made it clear he was meeting her mother and father. She should have, but the temptation had been too great. She and Loki were having a baby and perhaps a future together, and her parents had to know that. There was so much she kept from them. She didn't want to keep from them that they were going to be grandparents.

"What are you thinking?" Nott finally asked.

Hermione relaxed her shoulders and lifted her feet, lolling onto her back to float. She breathed in, long and deep. The stars weren't as bright, being so close to town, but she could still make out a few constellations. "You don't want to know."

He pushed off from where he was and mimicked her pose, floating on his back and using his arms to keep himself afloat. "I always want to know what you're thinking."

"You'd be one of the few."

"Now do I care…?"

"There he is." Smiling thinly at him, and she planted her feet again on the bed of the pool. "You're not really retired, are you?"

"I'm not actively working and don't have any immediate plans to do so. Lost the drive when you went missing." He shrugged. "It's the best our kind can hope for."

He lost the drive? Huh. "Well, I'm really retired."

"Mhm."

"I'm not going back to work."

"As long as you stay connected to the likes of me, consider yourself on call."

"You fired me, remember?"

His smiled turned impish, and he laughed. "Pregnant agents get away with so much in the field. No one suspects."

"I'm a liability."

His playful expression dissolved. "You were _never_ and will never be a liability." He went to run the backs of his fingers down her cheek but didn't quite make it. He stroked the air. "You won't be my first choice if I ever have to send somebody out again, I'll give you that. You still need to be ready, though. We're going to do laps. Twenty, right now from here. On the mark—"

"I don't want—"

"Go!" He dove under the water, and she cursed under her breath, following suit.

A little while later, she grabbed onto the ledge of the east side and then put her arms up on the concrete, pulling herself up to join Nott who had already finished his laps and was about done catching his breath. Running a flat hand over his short hair, he said, "Don't think because you're pregnant you can let yourself go. That's when a person ought to be on her toes the most. Christ, when you're a parent, you're always in the field, Granger."

She tried to regulate her breathing and leaned backwards a little to comfortably drop her head.

"What? Asgard doesn't have pools?"

She chuckled which turned into a a light cough. "You should see their tubs. More extravagant than Hogwarts."

"Always thought the Prefects tubs were strange. It's like they were trying to promote group bathing. Risky, that. If a war hadn't been looming in the midst, we'd all have been more hormonal and more stupid and taken advantage of how easy it was to shag in that place. Remington would've come sooner. Daphne and I…well…now's probably not the best time to reflect."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look. "Are you sure you don't want to remarry?"

"Are you proposing, Granger? Because if you are, I expect you to get down on one knee and with a ring. I'm an old fashioned bloke."

"If we were out for companionship and nothing else, I wouldn't be so opposed."

"Come off it. I know you've thought about me in more than friendlier terms. That party. You were on your hands and knees and pressing against me."

A blush warmed her cheeks, and she cleared her throat. "We both drank too much, and it was good you went to get us some coffee to sober up."

"Was it? Because all I have is regret leaving you."

"If you hadn't…" Loki would've showed up anyway and possibly hurt him out of jealousy.

"Remington was right there. We would've composed ourselves." And then he added, unsure, "Wouldn't we have?"

If Loki hadn't shown at all…?

"I don't know," she answered, and it was too honest and uncomfortable. She winced. "We've always been too familiar. It's not stemmed from attraction, but with the alcohol involved and the ridiculous dress I was wearing and the good time we were having…"

"You would've stopped. You're in love with someone else," he pointed out-rather unhelpfully.

"You know you can sleep with someone but love another."

"I know _I_ can. You can't. You'll slaughter a criminal, but your heart is too good on the little things"

" _I have._ " She had slept with Loki when she still had feelings for Ron. She'd slept with Ron when she had feelings for Loki. It was fine Nott thought her good and not completely amoral, but she wasn't pure and she was far from perfect. He really should know. He knew her well enough. "It was during my separation from Ron. I'll spare you the details. Just know I might've not stopped you, and you might've not stopped me."

Nott got to his feet and padded over to the shelf of towels, taking one and drying off his face. "What are you doing tomorrow? Aside from settling in at your new flat."

Hermione followed him, grabbing a towel as well. "I need to see a healer."

He paused for the briefest moment and then nodded. "You won't be out of sorts if I come, will you?"

Her expression turned dubious. "It's not a very glamorous kind of appointment."

"I wasn't aware there were any."

"This is, like, a very _feminine_ kind, and I get the feeling you never accompanied Daphne to her visits."

"A Pureblood gentlemen wouldn't dare be in the same room with his wife when she was being examined," he said dully. "But I'm not a gentleman, and you're not my wife."

Hermione wrapped the towel around her shoulders and snickered. "You are very much invited tomorrow to see sides of me you wish you hadn't."

After they dried and were dressed, he took her to the flat where she sidelong Apparated with him to get there. The flat was modest in size. A studio apartment, really. An open space and simple in layout. Standing in the middle of the barren area, she could see all four corners, even the utility room and the inside of the loo. It wasn't a place where one planned a future but was a temporary spot to unwind.

Or hide without feeling confined.

In in the kitchen section of the apartment, Nott handed her the key. "The stove and oven are gas. Modern in model, though. I know you like to cook."

Hermione slipped the key in the pocket of her khakis. "It's an all right place."

"Don't worry about rent. It's taken care of."

Hermione gave a half-smile of appreciation. "I should get back to my parents."

"I'll be there tomorrow to pick you up at eight. There's a semi-retired healer who owes me a favor. He'll see you impromptu."

"An OB healer owes you a favor. I'm sure there's a story behind that." She folded her arms, jutting out her hip.

"It's quite entertaining."

"And he happens to be here in Limon?"

"That'd be a coincidence. He's in Belize. Our portkeys will be ready, so no worries about that. For the first little while, he'll have you come see him. Then I imagine, he'll come to you when it's best you not travel."

"Sounds like a lot of trouble for services I can get here, but I'll give him a try. If I'm unimpressed with him, I'm going to find someone on my own terms. This is a _very_ personal thing you're shoeing yourself into. And no offense, it shouldn't be you accompanying me to this thing."

He shrugged. "Invite someone else."

She sighed. "There is no one else right now. The father can't come obviously, and my mum definitely won't like portkeying to Belize."

"Which is why I'm shoeing myself in."

"You're being weird. I hope you know. About this whole thing."

Nott slung an arm around her shoulder, coaxing her towards the door. "Let's get you familiar with the streets, so you don't get lost trying to find the place when you cross over."

Ah, he changed the subject with a valid point like he thought she wouldn't notice, the patronizing bastard. "Because I do that. Get lost, I mean."

"You're an embarrassment. Can't tell your norths from your souths. How'd you make it as my agent? I forget."

"I didn't. I was fired twice which likely furthers my humiliation."

"You're a tragedy." He ushered her out the door and down the narrow hallway that needed a tad of TLC but was otherwise not too shabby.

The walk to the crossover point wasn't too bad, and they passed by fascinating individuals, ranging from basic passersby to street vendors to businessmen and businesswomen dressed in work robes or Muggle suits and pencil skirts. Hermione even spotted a few…um…nonhuman individuals or those who'd be considered half-breeds.

The crossover point was a twenty-four hour sports bar and grill, and Hermione and Nott emerged from what was disguised as a closet in a private lavatory. They exited the loo and shuffled out of the establishment, and Hermione memorized the street and prominent landmarks in case she did get lost.

"I'll hail a cab back," she told him, inching closer to the edge of the curb and waving her hand at a taxi coming up on them. It pulled over, and she opened up the back door. "I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

He dipped his chin at her. "I'll come by in the morning instead and leave the car with your parents."

"Sounds good." She climbed into the vehicle and closed the door, buckling her seatbelt and telling the cabbie her parents' address. Fifteen minutes later, she paid the man and went inside the villa. The house was quiet, and she suspected her parents were upstairs fast asleep. She tiptoed up the steps and entered her room, gaping in astonishment when she flipped the light switch.

Her bedroom completely was set up.

She had a bed. Not a single-sized air mattress with thin sheets and a worn pillow she'd been expecting. The design was canopy, and the set was…the same as it had been from Norway.

Loki had brought her things to her.

Again.

Smiling, she ran her hands over the spines of the books on the shelf next to her, taking notice of the manuscripts, as well. In the nook close to the window was a quaint table with a basin and pitcher and not too far from that was a vanity. On the surface were boxes and chests of the special trinkets she couldn't afford to have stuffed in her beaded bag.

Beside her jewelry box was another, and it was unrecognizable but obviously a present. The box wasn't wrapped, but it did have a perfectly tied ribbon. She removed it and opened the box revealing a gold stefana. Hermione's eyes bugged out of her head, and she picked up the leafy tiara and examined it closely, rubbing her thumb over the detailed engravings of the leaves and testing the weight. It was real gold and an exact replica of her mother's.

Her tiny smile faded when seeing the etchings on the inside of the stefana, her mother's name catching her attention. Then it was her grandmother's name she saw. And then her great-grandmother's.

It wasn't possible.

"Loki," she whispered and the hairs on her neck prickled to life. She turned around and faced him, ignoring his stern features and the irate, stiffness in his shoulders.

"Where were you?" he hissed.

"How—"

"Who was that man?"

"You found it. I can't believe—"

"You were with him for some time."

"Where? How?"

"Hermione, you are not listening—"

She put the stefana down on the vanity and ran at him, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his waist and unapologetically pressing her lips against his. She snogged him deep and long until her mood won over, and she pulled away to glower at him. Her expression was severe, even when she started combing her fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp in the way he liked. "You know what? I hate how you can be such a bastard by making me second guess my worth to you and then do things like…like tracking down my mum's stefana."

The aggressiveness of his eye-roll nearly knocked her over. He scoffed at her, and she went to peck him on the lips but stopped when he smacked her with his own mask of sheer annoyance.

"You're second guessing your worth? You philandered about with another man for an entire evening." He sniffed. "You smell odd."

She frowned and stuck out her chin and unlocked her legs from his torso. "He's the least of your problems, Loki."

"I might've believed you if I hadn't seen for myself the way you allowed him to situate himself comfortably into your life here. Who is he?"

"A friend."

He looked at her dubiously.

"It's the truth and if you want more of it, then fine. I used work for him."

"Ah. He's the one who you got your orders to kill from. That does not explain what are you both doing here when you are in no condition to _work_ "

Hermione gestured to her surroundings. "He arranged all this. He said—"

"He arranged the house and for you to come _here_ where _he_ lives. He could've sent you anywhere, but he chose to keep you close."

"Because we're _friends!_ "

"Does he know that?"

"Who cares what he knows or thinks? It's not him I'm having a kid with. It's not him I've been badgering to get his shit together, so we can get married."

"Your parents like him more than they did me."

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. God, he didn't sound petulant at _all._ "They've met him before. And do you blame them? If you met _you_ for the first time, you'd come off feeling pistol-whipped, too. You are _terrible_ at first impressions. Do you remember mine?"

Loki pinched his lips together and continued dressing, and Hermione watched, tapping her foot on the floor and thinking how ruddy typical this was for them. Joy for two seconds, a mild dispute, cool off for two seconds and then boom! Fight and one of them storms out. Repeat. This was not how a promising relationship worked, and she saw herself having to do the hard thing and show him what can aid a wavering couple. She more than her fair share of marriage counseling and knew she wasn't doing her part, either.

Sucking in a deep, calm breath, she spoke, "I don't want to fight, and I don't want you to leave so soon. Not when you've made me so happy tonight. How did you find it, my mother's stefana?"

He regarded her warily. "Either your mother lied about it being stolen in Australia, or she came to that false conclusion on her own by mistake. The crown was at Jane's late mother's house."

Hermione crossed her arms and eyed him warily. "Jane would've told me. She would've picked it up before she got married, so she could wear it."

Loki quirked his lips but only just. "As titillating as it is to cause a further rift between you two, she didn't know it was there. I have reason to believe your late aunt stole it from your mother in hopes of eventually giving it to Jane in secret. The stefana was beneath the floor boards of her bed. Like a dirty secret."

"That can't be true."

He shrugged. "Your Aunt Daphne likely wanted Jane to have it."

Hermione plopped down on the edge of the bed and folded her arms. "Even so, what a bloody waste! Neither of us got to wear it." She stared at the stefana, brow furrowed. "But I should be grateful it's not lost like I thought I was. Our daughter can wear it when she gets married."

"Ah, but what if Jane wants her daughter to have it. Princess Daphne will one-day rule if Jane does, indeed, not have a son ever. She may be more entitled to it—"

"No, she won't," Hermione interjected. "This is a Christakos line affair, not Odinson. My mother inherited that stefana which was meant for me and will go to _our_ daughter."

"And what if Jane objects? Or proposes they share it?"

"Please stop adding kindle to non-existent drama. You're wasting your talents. Jane isn't going to care."

"She doesn't now, but eventually—"

"Stop, for the love of God! The stefana's mine, and she can't and won't have it!" Hermione marched over to the vanity and put the tiara back inside its case. "I gave her mine, anyway."

He appeared right behind her, and his breath tickled her shoulder and neck as he spoke. "And what if _we_ have a son? Have you considered that?"

"Even in some alternative dimension we did have a son, he wouldn't wear this particular stefana for his wedding."

Loki toyed with her hair and then moved a chunk away from her neck and pressed a tender kiss into the curve. "Hermione, if we do have a son, he'll be heir to the throne. Not Daphne."

Hermione flinched and then slowly turned around to face him and painted on a much too pleasant smile, hooking her arm around his stooped neck. "But we're not going to have a son, my darling. The moment your daughter is born, all you're going to know is little dresses and ruffles and taffeta and Disney princesses. And if we have more children—which I do want—your situation will worsen. You'll be beside yourself with pink chaos. Whatever shall you do?"

"I'm being serious."

"So am I."

"Your _cursed_ ancestry is nothing but a coincidental fluke. You very well could have a boy, so stop pretending you're so sure we're going to have a daughter."

"It's not an act, Loki." She stepped away from him and scowled. "And anyway, so what if we did have a son? He wouldn't rule. Jane and _especially Thor_ would never let that happen."

"By trying for a son? They may have another daughter."

"Don't."

"Thor may feel it necessary to take a mistress—"

Hermione slapped him, and it was both deliberate and harsh. The assault wasn't playful at all or done because she was annoyed. She was genuinely upset, way beyond the point of being irritated.

With her finger in his face and her voice grave yet calm, she said, "Don't _ever_ say that when it comes to Jane. Not in jest or in any other way. I've put up with your snide comments about her, but I will not tolerate you speaking about her like she's worth cheating on. Maybe you haven't realized, but she sacrificed a lot to be with Thor. It wasn't a treat becoming queen of Asgard nor was it to become a mother at the height of her career. You may not appreciate any of those things but Thor better for the rest of his life."

He grabbed her wrist, rough enough she'd likely have bruises the next morning. He forced her close to him, and he said, "Do not strike me again."

"Don't give me a reason to, and you've got yourself a deal." He let go of her wrist and took a step back, sighing and avoiding her face. She swallowed, rubbing the tender spots he gripped too tightly. "This wasn't how I wanted the night to go, either. I even tried to steer away from further trouble, but…we keep finding ourselves back here."

"It's normal for companions to have quarrels."

"About money, kids, friends, toilet lids, even sex which we kind of do. But the others, we don't. We fight about things no one outside of a bloody soap opera should have to fight about."

Again, he didn't look at her, and even stuck his nose up in the air a little as if to let her know how perpetually unbothered he was. "What do you suggest we do about it?"

"It's an observation. I imagine nothing will be done about our pensions for masochism in the near future."

His face split into a smile, and he took the wrist he'd been too rough with and gently kissed her on her pulse. "I can't think of a better way in driving myself into madness."

"You were already there long before I came into the picture."

His teeth grazed her skin, and she shivered. "It wasn't as fun then."

"Fun?"

He pulled her against him, and he brushed his lips over her forehead and whispered in a breathy laugh, "Aren't you having fun?"

"I admit there's never a dull moment." She lifted her head and stood up on her toes, their noses brushing. "I wonder if we'll ever stop fighting, and we can just be us. Just be happy. Without your wife and the invasion and—

"Your _friend_ who is so plainly in love with you."

"—the politics regarding our unborn baby."

"Your goal is to have an uneventful life. We will both drive ourselves mad from boredom."

"An uncomplicated life." She suckled his upper lip, lingering and gentle. She wanted their biggest problem to be that they couldn't make love every night because their children were afraid of the dark and only felt safe at night when they were snug between mummy and daddy.

He cupped her bum and lifted her with ease, and she draped one leg around his hip. He walked them over to the bed and laid her down.

She shook her head, and suppressing a grin "We can't. You're married."

He slowly dropped to his knees, tapping her belly pointedly. "I was married when this happened."

She cupped her warm cheeks, staring up at the ceiling. "I couldn't help it. I'm sorry."

Hermione wasn't exactly sure who she was apologizing to: her mum's God she wasn't sure about _or_ the demigod on his knees for her she wasn't so sure about either.

Loki lifted the hem of her shirt up to her waist and sunk lower, sweeping his gaze over her stomach.

"You can't tell from this angle," she said and then lifted herself up on her elbows. "You can kind of tell now, but it's still too soon. I'll probably start to really show in a few weeks."

He didn't respond but lowered her shirt and smoothing out the wrinkles. She quirked a brow. "What's the matter? I'm suddenly not attractive anymore now that I'm pregnant? FYI, the man usually distances himself later in the gestational period. You have about five months and a stone and a half to go."

His mouth drooped into a perplexed frown. "I have no idea what nonsense you're speaking about this time. I merely think it best we sleep tonight." His perfect hands crept up her legs. "Unless you insist…" He sent a jolt a magic through her body, surprising her and causing her breath to hitch at the sensation. Her toes curled, and she chewed on her bottom lip. She _loved_ when he did that, and it had been too long since he had.

She put her hands over his wandering ones before they got too close to where she wanted them. "As badly as I want you to persuade me, I _am_ very tired."

"Pity."

* * *

The bed jostled, and Hermione felt a light touch over the ends of her hair causing her to wake with a slight start. Looking at the window, she saw the sky was still dark, so she turned over on her side. In the dimness of the room, she saw Loki was awake and concluded he must've been the one to wake her. He was fixated on the ceiling, and he said, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's all right." She scooted closer to him and rested her hand on his naked shoulder, reminding her he was very much unclothed beneath the sheet over them-it was much too warm for the comforter. Loki preferred to be nude when sleeping, and she found herself straining her eyes to soak in his broad shoulders along with his long and lean torso. She licked her lips, thinking how she'd rather be laving at him instead. He was a flawless piece of canvas or a pristine platter built for culinary artwork. She fantasized smearing him with whipped cream and Nutella and topped with strawberries and pineapple and...beets. Definitely beets. Pickled beets.

She licked her lips again and a whiff of something made her nose tickle. It was an intoxicating mixture of metal and leather and ozone with a hint of must. Like the dusty scent from an ancient library which housed tomes of yellowed parchment.

Hermione pounced.

One _Muflliato_ and three-no make that four-very loud moans of delight later, she collapsed into the mattress, her face burying itself into a pillow just as Loki fell on top of her her. She made a disgruntled sound and then jerked her head to the right to breathe in some sweet oxygen. Loki's chin rested on her shoulder, and she craned her neck to give him nuzzled and a tired smooch on the cheek.

"I'm sorry," she whispered breathlessly. "I don't know what came over me. It's like you were here, and I was over there. Then I was over here attacking you, and I couldn't stop."

"One should never have to apologize for taking what belongs to them."

She shifted underneath him, making room for one of his arms. It held her by the ribs and secured her closer to him, and something feral inside of her burst to life. "That's right. You're mine. All mine. I refuse to share you"

Fingertips dug into her hip. "The same goes for you. I do not share my most prized possessions."

"Out of the two of us, which one is legally taken by another?"

"Careful now, witch. You'll spur another _battle_." He did something naughty for emphasis purposes.

" _Oh._ Oh, do that again."

* * *

Her healer's appointment went without a hitch. When she returned from Belize, she poured over her copy of the healer's report over a late lunch at a restaurant Nott picked out in Limon. Every test came back normal, and there were no abnormalities seen during the ultrasound. Her baby was healthy and alive and strong.

" _Your baby has a very strong and steady heartbeat. Stronger than any other I've come across at this stage, quite honestly."_

For the hundredth time, she flipped to the sonogram and traced the outline of her baby and touched where the heart was. It was so tiny but so real. She'd seen the tiny, fluttering organ pulse on the screen. Healer Jasper had even muttered a spell to which she could _hear_ her baby's heartbeat. She'd been a blubbering mess after that and was unable to compose herself until they reached Limon. People kept giving Nott the stink eye like he was the reason for her tears. Some man even walked up to them at the station and asked if Nott was bothering her.

" _It's too early to tell if you're having a boy or girl and it's never a guarantee, but the heartbeat's rhythm is much like a boy's."_

Hermione shirked that tidbit. She herself had a _boy's_ heartbeat when her mum was expecting her. The tiny little thing inside herself that didn't look like much yet was going to be a girl. A precious daughter with her father's perfect eyes. And maybe his teeth. His hair, too. He had nice hair.

She felt Nott's gaze on her and flushed. "Sorry. I'm just so excited. For a longest time, I thought I couldn't have kids."

Nott set down his beer and linked his fingers behind his head, relaxing in his chair. "I used to be quite intimate with your labs and imaging results. They weren't that bad _then_ , but I'm sure they worsened after I let you go. Getting older and having a lady illness is the pits." His expression turned inquisitive. "So is this a true miracle baby, or did you get in favor with a shaman?"

"I got in favor with a shaman."

He snickered. "I'm serious."

"I got in favor with someone. How about that?"

"Given how _our_ world couldn't even help you, I'm taking a wild guess here. You got your little hands on something special up in Asgard. I'm sure that place is festering with all kinds of fertile magic."

Hermione reluctantly put away the file. "It's all good and polite of you to get me lined up with a healer, Theodore, but a woman's body and what goes on in there is her business and her business alone."

"Admit it. You butchered a cow in the name of Freyja or whatever her name is."

Hermione picked up her unused steak knife. "No, but I can. Come here."

* * *

The next week, Loki was absent and Hermione grew frustrated and a little hurt he wouldn't take five seconds from his schedule to come see her. She wanted to show him the sonogram and had made herself available for him. A few times, she even called out for him, but he didn't come. After week two of waiting for him, she chose to spend her nights at the flat. It wasn't to teach him a lesson or anything like that. The whole purpose for the flat was to keep herself and her baby safe.

When she did start spending the night at her flat, Nott stayed later and later, and they'd stay up conversing about all kinds of things like when they were kids at Hogwarts to how they dealt with aftershocks of the war. Books and films and old missions and even Asgard were brought up, too. One night they even had a slumber party with Remington, and Hermione and Nott built a gigantic fort in the middle of the apartment made of blankets and pillows, pinned together by magic. They ate pizza, smoreos, and drank hot chocolate while she retold some of her adventures at Hogwarts.

"Which was your favorite?" asked Remington, his brown eyes as wide as tea saucers.

"I wasn't fond any of them," she replied. "They were all terrifying things, _but…_ I am proud of being able to solve that riddle at such a young age."

"Remington," Nott said, his tone kind but firm, "In many of these adventures, Hermione did not go unscathed. She left out how she was petrified, too, during our second year."

Remington gasped, and Hermione tried smile to assure him that it was perfectly all right now, but it had been a time she had no desire to think about. She recalled being locked inside her own body, unable to move or speak or even properly rest.

Dunking his smoreo into his hot chocolate, the boy asked, "Did you two get along at all?"

They both snorted, and Hermione gave him a mirthful, "No."

"We didn't know each other all that well." He scooted his unfinished mug of hot chocolate to his son, the man done with his drink and never having had as much of a sweet tooth. "And by your grandfather's request, I was not allowed to associate with…people like her. Plus, she was so annoying. Oh, my God. In class, she'd—"

"I was _not_ that bad!"

"You were." Nott bobbed his head up and down. "You were the worst. I fantasized chopping your arms off every time you raised them."

"Lovely anecdote to say in front of your son."

"And when you gave reports…" He laughed and then straightened his spine and painted a very serious yet very enlightened expression on his face before gifting both Hermione and his son a rather impressive mockery of her adolescent self. _"In 1103_ _A.D._ _Hargatha Gelzowyck was one of the first Muggle-Born witches to be appointed to the Wizengamot. However, her groundbreaking excellence at being a Potion's Mistress is what she is renowned for. It may have been Barthania Tiddlelaught who first concocted the Draught of Living Death, but it was Gelzowyck who perfected it. Rumor has it that she brewed such a potent patch, she incidentally killed her twelve or eighty cats—"_

Hermione threw a pillow at his head. "All right, you've had your fun."

"I was on a roll!"

"You're just jealous. I _killed_ that report."

"Professor Snape called it overkill and deducted ten points from Gryffindor. I remember."

"Be that is it may, I got an O on it like I did with all of my potion essays. Snape may have hated me, but even he couldn't argue my brilliance."

"Who cares about house points? As long as you get the perfect grade."

"Exactly," Hermione replied and then coughed uncomfortably, blushing. "Well, I just meant…"

"People are dumb, and you're not," Nott remarked.

Bringing the mug to her lips, she said, "I'm very dumb. I've made loads of mistakes. You know that better than most, Theodore. New Orleans 2009, remember?"

Nott squeezed her pajama covered knee. "We both know that was my favorite one."

She nearly smiled, but it was hard to do when thinking of Malfoy. Despite everything, she hoped he was at rest, at peace. Maybe even a tad insightful.

"I miss him, too," said Nott, interrupting her thoughts.

"Miss who?" Remington asked.

"I don't miss him," Hermione said, a guilty cringe on her face.

The man nodded ruefully. "You should forgive him."

"I'm not there yet." She sighed, shaking her head. "But I don't regret New Orleans. Even if I knew all that would in the years to come, I still would've gone back for him."

"But not as eagerly."

"I'm only human."

"What are you guys talking about?" Remington lamented. "Grownup stuff? Stahp it! Oh, Dad. Let's talk about Arenal Volcano National Park."

"I already told you that you're not going," his father said and then turned to Hermione. "I'm taking a trip there with some old friends."

Remington pouted. "But I want to go. Really, really bad."

"You're going to be with your mother and in school. It's out of my hands."

"But I've never been before! Why didn't we go earlier this summer? Da-aaad!"

"I've never gone," Hermione tried and then regretted her entire existence at the pensive expression Nott shot her.

* * *

 **October 2015**

Hunching over to catch her breath, Hermione gaped at the beauty that was the site the Arenal Volcano kindly provided her. Beside her, Nott removed her Powerade from the hold in her CamelBak and nudged her shoulder with it. "Thanks," she said took it from him. "It's beautiful here. Where's Zabini? And Davies?"

"Blaise got delayed by the missus. Davies I think gave up and is waiting for us to turn back. You did better than all of them" He stared at her stomach in admiration. "How're you feeling?"

Hermione shrugged, removing her ball cap and wiping her sweaty brow with a towel she packed and then dabbed her neck. "I wish it would rain. I don't care if it'd sop me. It wouldn't make much of difference. I'm so gross and sweaty."

"We should head back. Hungry?"

"Starved. I'd murder for a pineapple tofu gyro right now."

"You need protein. Legit protein. You're growing a person."

"I can hear the _bakaaah_ every time I eat chicken and don't get me started on the gobble—"

"You kill people—"

"I don't eat them."

Nott snickered and patted her shoulder. "I'd pay good money to see that."

Hermione stretched and worked the kinks out of her spine, lifting her arms high above her head and bending back and forth and side to side. She really was proud of herself. Nearly five months along, and she was still doing pretty good and was loving how active Nott was keeping. Her mum disapproved. Hell, Loki would, too, but he wasn't here and hadn't bothered to visit in almost two months. Her patience waxed thin, and she was becoming worried.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Nott staring at her as he slurped from the straw of his CamelBak which she brushed off.

"Anyway, what are you hungry for?" she asked

"What?" he said.

"What are you hungry for?"

He moved his focus down below. After a few moments, he said, "Greek sounds good."

"We probably won't find a place close by. I can cook when we get back to Limon, but we should pick up something along the way. I saw some chocolate pineapple covered bits at the sweet shop in the station. I want them."

The sun was setting by the time they got back to her parents' house. Hermione saw they weren't home, their car missing from the driveway. They must've gone out…

She zeroed in on the two motorcycles and then noticed the some of the house lights were on. Her seatbelt was already unbuckled, and Nott was reaching over her to get to the glovebox, pulling out his Glock.

"Stay in the car," he ordered, shifting gear shift into park.

"Like hell," she hissed. "I hiked twelve miles. I'll be all right."

" _Stay the fuck in the car,"_ he hissed, wrenching open his door and slamming it shut. She glared daggers at him while he scoped out the property and went around the house. The moment he disappeared, she rifled through the glovebox and found a spare wand, a taser, and another pistol—this one a Browning. Not her favorite, but it'd do. There was no way she was leaving Nott to fend for himself when there were _two_ motorcycles parked.

Getting out of the car, she circled the house to go through the mud-door, unlocking it with a flick of her wrist and stepping inside quietly, gun aimed and her eyes and ears alert. She heard talking coming from the telly room—two men. She listened carefully as she crept closer, rounding a corner and able to assess American accents. Coming up at the end of the hallway, she could see a section of the sitting room and Nott inching closer to it. When he saw her, it looked like he was contemplating shooting _her_. She flipped him off which he dodged and darted into the sitting room.

"Don't move!" she heard him bellow.

"Easy there!" a man said, and Hermione lowered her gun but did not set it aside or stow it away in her trousers. What the hell was Steve Rogers doing here?

To be Continued...


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hey! Sorry for the delay!**

 **I'm keeping this short, so thank you, Readers and Reviewers and Followers and the like.**

 **I now present Chapter 16! Please Read and Review and tell me your thoughts! :)**

* * *

Hermione paced the sitting room, tuning out the argument between Steve and Nott while attempting to keep her thoughts in a row. But it was proving to be difficult. Only two things kept going through her mind:

Jane's in a coma.

Thor's missing.

"Sit down, sweetheart." Sam patted the empty space next to him on the sofa. She complied, the muzzle of Nott's pistol digging into the bottom of her spine. She'd put that away when it was clear she didn't need it. Steve hadn't come to drag her off because of her affair with Loki. He had come bearing bad news.

Sam extracted a gum packet from his pocket and held it out in offering. "Trust me, it'll help you think clearer."

She popped out a tiny white tablet and chewed on it. "Thanks."

"When's the last time you heard from Loki?"

She flicked her gaze at Nott and then at Steve who were still fighting about what went down after Loki had taken her from Stark Tower months ago. Neither of them had heard Sam's question.

Scratching her neck, Hermione let out a sigh. "I think he's missing, too," she said quietly, feeling queasy at the thought. "It's been two, almost three months. I hadn't thought about it until Thor's absence was mentioned."

"You don't think it's a coincidence?"

She shook her head. "He wouldn't stay away this long."

"Yeah, I take it he wouldn't."

There was something meaningful in his tone, and Hermione saw him clocking her stomach which she had believed was cleverly hidden by her hiking jacket. Apparently, you can't get one passed Sam Wilson.

"Don't tell Steve," she said.

"Hey, it's not his or my business. I just happened to not be fooled." He cast a sideways look at Steve and then continued, "Look, we didn't just come here to tell you about Jane and Thor."

She frowned. "Coming to arrest me, are you?"

He arched his eyebrows at her, taking out his phone. "Steve would never let that happen. No, can you take a look at these for me?"

He tapped at his gallery on his iPhone 6 and enlarged a photograph. It was of a smart board heavily noted in Jane's workmanship. Equations and formulas on top of one another made the image hard to interpret. Hermione took the phone from Sam and enhanced the photo a little more, zeroing in on a section which housed symbols not found in your everyday curriculum. They were arithmetical runes. The runes Hermione had wriggled into Jane's notes ages ago.

"Can you make heads or tails of that? Tony and Bruce had to call in Dr. Erik Selvig, but even he's not sure."

Hermione massaged her chin pensively. "And what makes you think I'd know?"

"I don't think anything. None of us do, but we're out of options. Steve didn't get far in explaining to you that we think the invasion we've been prepping for has moved on to greener pastures. We think the Chitauri went to Asgard. It makes sense. We don't have the Tesseract anymore. _They do_. It explains why Thor jumped ship, and you haven't heard from Loki.

Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth in horror. "Have any of you attempted to call out for Heimdall?"

"Before Jane was shot, she did all day every day. Nothing, which was when she started getting desperate and calling out for Loki. When that didn't work, she redirected her focus on opening a wormhole to Asgard. She's out of commission now thanks to HYDRA, and we need all the help we can get. So I'm going to ask again, can you make heads or tails of this?"

Hermione handed the phone back to Sam. "Yes."

Sam's smile was surprised but warm and pleased. "The jet to New York leaves in two hours. Will that be enough time to tie up some loose ends?"

She forwent a reply and got to her feet. "Theodore! Steve! Stop fighting this instant!" The two men quieted instantly, although she swore she heard Nott mutter the word 'ponce' under his breath. "Steve, Sam explained to me a few things, and I might be able to help you guys out."

"The hell you can," Nott balked, starting towards her. "You're not getting mixed up in all this bullshit again. I won't have it."

"You don't get to speak for her," argued Steve. "She can decide for herself. She's a grown woman."

"You don't even know, Rogers, so stay the hell out of it." Nott cupped her shoulders, squeezing. "Granger, don't do this."

"They need my help. It's important." She squeezed one of his hands. "I know it's dangerous, and it's _risky_ in more ways than one but terrible things could be happening, and I can help stop them. I'm _going_ to. I don't need your permission. You don't get to decide."

" _Hermione."_ He was using her first name now, and it did almost make her pause but just for a moment.

"I'm going upstairs to pack a few things." She began climbing the stairs and Nott was on her tail. When they got to her bedroom, he closed the door behind him and cast a _Muffliato_.

"Shit, Granger, are you absolutely mad?"

She whirled around to face him, a mask of frustration on her face. "Asgard is being invaded just like how it happened in New York. Earth is going to be hit again after that. _Thor is missing_. My cousin is in a _coma_. Her kid is being taken care of by people who are pretty much strangers." And Loki could be dead. She wasn't going to go there. "I can help them. Jane was working on an Einstein-Rosenbridge. She lacked the appropriate arithmetic, so I snuck them into her equations a while back."

Hermione's sigh was heavy and broken. It was all beginning to sink in—Jane's condition and Loki's AWOL. "I gave her runes. Stark, Banner, and even Jane's mentor doesn't know what to do with them. They can't finish the bridge in time unless someone who knows what they mean helps them."

Nott roughly grabbed her arms. "You gave her runes? You are mad, aren't you?" He shook his head and let go of her, raking a hand through his hair. "So the Avengers now have access to magic. Have you thought about how their computers aren't going to be able to interpret it? It'll short-circuit them at best. Blow their entire lab and everyone in it to hell at worst."

Hermione flicked her gaze to the side, mulling over his words and finding truth in them. She had no idea at what length Jane nor Stark or Banner tested those formulas.

"The world's not ready for science and magic to coexist. The technology can't handle it. We are lucky our phones don't bloody explode in our pockets."

Hermione stuck out her chin and looked him in the face dead on. "I'll find a way. A wormhole without a Bi-frost was opened once before. It can be done again."

"I don't pretend to know a lot about science, but I know enough that there's not a big enough energy source to power it, thus, why Thor's brother needed the Tesseract. You don't have that, and there's not enough magic in the world to mimic it. It's impossible what you want to do."

"I'll find away," she repeated. "I'm smart. I'm resourceful. The world's brightest minds will be alongside me. Theodore, I have to do this. The entire galaxy might depend on it, all right? So I'm going to be leaving for New York _right now._ It's the right thing to do."

She darted to her closet, instinctively grabbing her beaded bag and wrenching it open in preparation of stuffing it with manuscripts and textbooks, anything that might be of use. Within the bag, something glinted and caught her eye, and her breath caught in her throat at what was wedged inside.

"How're you going to explain to everyone about the runes, huh? Bet you haven't thought about that, have you? They know your Muggle history. You've worked for Interpol and were an authoress on your downtime. Doesn't exactly scream linguistic anthropologist or semiotic specialist," Nott said from behind her.

Hermione snapped the bag closed and said over her shoulder. "I'll lie. Said I picked up a few tricks on Asgard. That I learned a bit of their lingo because I actually did. They'll believe me. I'll make a good case they won't be able to argue too much if they truly care."

Loki would be her key. He schooled her. He taught her what he could in the space of time they shared together even though in reality he barely lifted a finger to further her knowledge on the Aesir language and the ancient Scandinavian Runes she had once slaved over.

She clutched her bag close to her, but there wasn't time to dwell on him or why he left the scepter and the mind stone with her. Or better yet, when?

She heard Nott mutter under his breath. Something about needing a smoke. She felt his presence leave the threshold of her closet, and she looked over her shoulder to see him go to the far window and open it. Leaving him alone for the moment, she got out her trunk and largest bag, filling them with a portion of her belongings. With those packed, she shoved the manuscripts and textbooks into her beaded bag and opened her bedroom door, listening for Sam and Steve. It sounded like they'd found the telly.

Hermione checked her phone and saw she had a text message from her mum. Her parents had gone to the cinema and would be back late. She called her mum and left a voicemail explaining how Lucas was whisking her away on a surprise holiday and she'd be back in a week and would keep in touch.

Hanging up the phone, Nott asked, "Who's Lucas?"

"The baby's dad."

"Is that his real name?"

"It doesn't matter." She studied Nott's brooding features. He was scowling at something in her front yard. The motorbikes, perhaps. She'd have to call a cab. Tapping her thumb on her phone, she said, "You could come with. I mean…I am coming back. In a week. To visit and to come up with a lie to tell them. I have to keep up the guise with my parents. I'm not going to take off on them and not keep contact like I've done in the past. I can't do that to them anymore."

"I'm not allowed at Stark Tower."

"You could stay at your place there. It's only a few blocks." She walked up beside him, shrugging a shoulder. "We could both stay there. Um…Jane's baby and I, that is. With you."

"It's all right, Granger." He lowered his chin and then shifted his eyes at the sun, squinting at the sunset. "You're not going to be a stranger around here. That's what matters."

"I'm probably going to have to find a healer there after a while if this thing takes longer than I'd like."

"I'll arrange something for you."

"I'm not asking you to. You've gone to all my other appointments. You can come with me to these ones. It's a lot of trouble for an hour visit, but the invitation is open."

"I'll think about it." His tone was moody and crisp. "If you need a night to get away from those freaks, you're welcome at my flat."

Hermione cocked her head to the side and reached for his face, cupping it. She nibbled her bottom lip and studied his furrowed brow and his defensive, cagey gaze. It was then she understood something she hadn't caught before, so she leaned in close to his face. Much to her surprise and embarrassment, he dodged her advance and stepped back from her.

"I'm sorry. I thought—"

"You thought right, but I don't want you to kiss me because you're sorry. I want you to kiss me because you mean it. _Really_ mean it. I don't want your pitiful affection."

She nodded, looking down at the floor. "Fair enough," she said softly and wrung her hands, thinking of the ramifications it'd cause if she told him she had feelings for him, as well. She concluded it wouldn't be worth it in the long run. Her heart belonged to Loki as did her future.

A voice in her head told her it was possible both he and Thor were dead. If Thanos bypassed Earth and went straight for Asgard first, he could be dead. She knew enough there was quite a bit of love lost between Loki and Thanos, and Thanos was out for his blood.

Hermione stopped entertaining that thought immediately. She wasn't going to think like that. She was going to throw herself into creating an Einstein-Bridge as if Loki was waiting for her to do so. As if he had planned it all along and was currently waiting for her at the palace in Asgard. Waiting for her to come home to him.

"You should get going," said Nott.

"Okay," she whispered.

* * *

Tony's jet was used for the flight to New York. With it, they'd be in New England in a few hours as compared to hours of layovers and safety checks before takeoff. And once Steve had leveled the plane, he handed the reins over to auto pilot and sat in the seat by her.

"I want to apologize for my behavior with your friend," he said as she unbuckled her seat belt, releasing the pressure of her still hidden stomach.

She chuckled, not happily. "It's not really me you need to apologize to, but I'll take it."

"He kind of made himself a problem after Loki took you. We didn't know what to do. It probably would've gone down better if Jane and Thor would've just told us what was going to happen."

"I think so, and would you have behaved any differently if a friend of yours went missing?" Steve visibly bristled and then narrowed his baby blues at her like she knew something she shouldn't. She pursed her lips at him thoughtfully and said, "The question wasn't meant to derail you, but I'll take your response as a no."

"Look, I don't know what Loki told you about me—"

"He doesn't tell me anything about anyone." She could tell he wanted to believe her but couldn't bring himself to. "Loki and I didn't pass the time by discussing the Avengers. He mentioned a few unimportant matters, but it was not a habit to talk about much else beyond our own companionship."

He cracked a confused, mirthless smile. "Yeah, because you two are a normal couple."

"No."

He did laugh at that and then looked down at his lap. "Sam told me you haven't heard from him in a while. He told you about Thor. He's missing, too. It's persuading us more and more there's something going in Asgard. You're sure you can read those formulas? Tony's ninety-nine percent positive you can't and finding you was a waste of time. I went to bat for you. I'd appreciate it if you don't disappoint me."

Hermione pressed her lips together and then retrieved her bag from between her feet, carefully rifling through the textbooks and manuscripts as to not arise suspicion. She extracted a folded up piece of paper wedged in one of her manuscripts and unfolded it, showing it to Steve.

"In Asgard, Loki taught me a few things. It was during the more clandestine part of our relationship, so I didn't really get around in telling Jane about it. I also didn't want to take any credit away from her since discovering and creating an Einstein-Rosen Bridge is her life. Anyway, I deciphered these," she pointed to a few of the sigils, "and translated them—or as close as I could get them—into formulas and equations recognizable by us. I wove them into Jane's notes without her knowing. Some symbols, however, can't be outright translated which is why Stark, Dr. Banner, and Dr. Selvig are unsure of Jane's work. It was the best start I could give her before we came to New York earlier this year."

Steve looked at the page and then back at Hermione. "I find it hard to believe Loki taught you anything without a price."

Hermione clicked her tongue and folded up the paper, returning it to her bag. "What makes you think I didn't pay?"

He cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. "I want to trust you, but you're hiding a lot. I _think_ you're on our side, but Tony's going to give you hell."

She slit her eyes. "I wasn't aware there were sides, Steve. Are you implicating Loki is a _side_?"

"He has his own agenda. Do you know about the HYDRA agents?"

"I know a little," she confessed. "But what exactly was I supposed to do about it? Contact you people and tell them he's building an army of mercenaries and terrorists to help fend off an upcoming invasion? What would be the point, really? Earth needs all the help it can get. Even if it's forced. And, Steve, I'm not on anyone's side. I'm helping because it's the right thing to do."

He nodded, vague and indecisive. He shifted in his seat, leaning closer to her and dropping his voice as to ensure Sam wouldn't hear whatever he had to say. "I know you're MI-6."

She glared at him, letting a beat pass. "Uh uh."

"After Sokovia, I knew there was no way you were _just_ Interpol. You got yourself and Darcy Lewis out of there quick and clean. I did some digging and called in a few favors. Extreme covert black ops were your specialty. And your buddy Nott's."

Hermione forced herself to relax, rolling her eyes and melting in her seat. She was very aware of what her Muggle file stated. She wasn't overly concerned he found out about her being a former operative. Finding out she was a witch, however, was another thing entirely. Her file would never say such things. That would be stupid.

"I'm retired," she said cordially. "Does anyone else know?"

"Just me and a friend I have in intelligence."

"Good. I'd appreciate it if you kept this particular bit of the conversation to yourself. If not for my sake, then for England's."

"I guess England wouldn't like if they found out you and the guy responsible for Stuttgart and the New York invasion were involved." He didn't sound threatening, but Hermione shot him a warning glower.

"Don't," she said.

He moved his eyes from her face. "It was tricky to find that information, Hermione, but not hard enough. It's something HYDRA could find if they knew to look. They know about you and Loki. It'd be easy for them to paint you as a sympathizer and fanatic, a danger to international security. You'd be seen as an enemy to the U.N. Maybe even the world."

"What are you trying to get at?" she hissed.

"When this is all over, when we've won and things are settled, you should go to Asgard. _Stay there_. Where you'll be safe."

Opening her mouth to reply, she was interrupted by Sam coming up between them, offering them an opened box of chocolate granola bars.

"Hungry?" he offered.

Somehow three jumped into her fist, and she dodged Sam's smirk. She tore the wrapper open of one and consumed it in just a few bites.

"We'll be in New York in a few hours. Unfortunately, this is all we got for now," he said ruefully.

Hermione dusted the crumbs off her hiking shirt. She hadn't even changed or showered or anything with the exception of packing. "I'll be all right. Thanks. I want to see Jane first. Is she…is she at a hospital or…"

"She's at the initiative base. It's not in the tower anymore. The lab's still there, and it's where you'll be working with the others," explained Steve.

"And what about Daphne? Who's taking care of her?"

"At first it was all of us and then that wasn't working. Plus, we hadn't found you or your parents yet. You never met Agent Barton, but she's staying with his family. He's got a wife and kids. It's off the intelligence grid. She's safe. Don't worry."

Better said than done. Hermione wanted to believe Daphne was safe, but Clint Barton was a stranger. She'd never met him or his family. Chewing on her lips pensively, she said, "I want her with me. Just for a week. And then I'm going back to Costa Rica to see my parents where I'll bring Daphne to them."

"She needs to be under protection," Steve argued. "HYDRA still wants her. She's safe where she is."

He might be right. If the Avengers managed to find Hermione and her parents, HYDRA could, too. Still, Daphne could be better protected.

Maybe her parents weren't the best option. Potentially, Nott could. He'd understand the circumstances, and HYDRA wouldn't be able to enter his property much less see it for what it was. To them, his estate would look like a ramshackle beach hut.

"Possibly," Hermione eventually responded. "But I'm Daphne's next of kin aside from my parents. It's up to me to decide what's best for her, and I believe bringing her to Costa Rica is it. I wouldn't risk it if I didn't believe she would be safe. I have contacts and resources who'll give that to her."

Again, Steve opened his mouth to undoubtedly dispute, but she beat him to it. "I don't like it, either. You think I want to send her away? I haven't seen her in _months_ , and I want her with me more than you know. I do want her close to Jane, but I can't think about that right now. HYDRA isn't going to immediately suspect we sent her to the bottom of the world. It'll give us more of an upper hand for the time being."

* * *

Despite the flight lasting but a few hours, it felt like longer. The simmering tension between Hermione and Steve never really cooled, and she was unable to prevent the audible sigh when the jet landed on a flat area of tarmac outside a concrete facility.

It was about one in the morning, and there was a chill in the air when she stepped outside onto the tarmac. Steve walked her up a section of pavement separating a wide expanse of grassy fields and into the building, leading her through plain hallways that wouldn't be out of place at a corporate office tower. Each door they entered needed a code, finger print, eye scan, or voice recognition. Hermione expected Jane to be on lockdown, caged in hospital-like room.

On the contrary, Steve opened one more door and she was in a domestic-like corridor, carpet on the floor and neutral painted walls. She followed him down it, passing by a chic, modern kitchen where that swat team she envisioned was at the kitchen table playing cards and drinking coffee. Beside the table stood an iron man suit, specifically the Iron Patriot edition. Colonel James Rhodes sat at the table with the swat team, joining in on their grave shift. He as well as the others saluted Steve, and he acknowledged them with a nod. When Steve was no longer looking, Rhodes gave her a cold, grim expression, full of suspicion and even a tad of disgust.

Rhode's obvious dislike for her didn't weigh on her for long. She and Steve turned a corner, and there were two more men donned in swat gear sitting outside an open door. When she and Steve approached, they saluted Steve and let them enter a dim-lit bedroom. Hermione's gaze immediately fell to the bed where her cousin laid, and her pace quickened. She rounded the bed as to get better access due the monitors and cupped Jane's hand, squeezing.

Swallowing, Hermione soaked in every change the past six months had brought on her cousin. Jane's hair was longer, though she had been growing it out for some time. The tresses were darker than they had ever been and on the point of unruly. Without her careful primping, her hair's natural state and resurfaced. Her skin was also pale, ghostly even. The natural sun-kissed hue her skin once sported had been stripped from her, as well.

Hermione released Jane's slacked hand and brushed her fingers over the bulky bandage at Jane's temple.

"The bullet didn't fully breech," Steve informed. "It side-swiped her, but it still nicked the brain tissue which is probably why she hasn't woken up yet. There's still some inflammation. We thought with the Apple of Iðunn she had, she'd be awake by now at least. We like to think she is healing. At first, she couldn't breathe on her own. Honestly, we thought she was gone. A blow like that would've likely killed someone else."

Pressing her lips together, she nodded and thought of the medical practices in Asgard. Eir likely would've been able to further help Jane's healing, but the woman was obviously not an option, and Hermione worried about other things. Like Jane's mind. Would her cousin be the same when she did wake up? The Apple of Iðunn didn't necessarily speed up the healing process but simply allowed a person to live so they _could heal_. The brain wasn't known for healing in a timely fashion nor perfectly.

Cupping Jane's forehead, the skin clammy and slightly oily. Hermione tempted the notion of taking a peek but Steve was in the room, and Hermione could not forget the monitors. She may short-circuit them.

She exhaled softly, removing her touch from Jane and looking around the room, taking in the vase of freesias on the bedside table and the many get well cards beside it taped to the wall. Some of them homemade and clearly drawn and written by children.

Steve must've noticed her line of vision because he said, "We tried keeping a tight lid on what happened with Jane as well as her relationship to Thor. Just recently, the press got ahold of the information somehow, and there's been support. Which is nice. I guess." His smile was brittle but genuine. "There's been a ton more, but we've only put a few up."

She nodded. That was nice, she supposed, but didn't really care for the media knowing about her cousin's state. "I never asked. The HYDRA agent who shot her. Is he dead? Did one of you kill him?" A yawn attempted to attack her, but she ignored the urge and rubbed her tired, watering eyes. "Was it even a him?"

A look of pure guilt washed over Steve. "He got away."

"Do you know his name?"

"You know why she was attacked, right?" he said. "It's because Loki's hijacking of their ranks. They know we're planning to open a wormhole to go into battle. They came to the conclusion their soldiers would be the first to be shoved through, and they wanted to stop that. Killing Jane would stop it if not slow it down considerably. Erik was on their list, too, but he's fine."

"Do you know his name?" repeated Hermione.

Steve rested his eyes on her for a while before answering. "Brock Rumlow. HYDRA has titled him Crossbones."

Hermione refrained from showing any look of recognition, but merely thanked him. She had heard of Crossbones. That was the name of hers and Nott's contact when she'd been planning to sneak onto the helicarrier. Crossbones—Rumlow—was to the be the one to get them the information, so she knew how without being detected. Both she and Nott knew their contact had to have been sketchy, but she really had no idea just how bad.

"Don't do anything rash, okay?" Steve commented. "The last thing Jane ever wanted for you was to be put in danger. She felt _horrible_ when you were taken by HYDRA. Even more so when you told her you weren't coming back with us. And when your parents disappeared, the only thing keeping her together was that Thor supposedly heard from Loki that they were fine."

"I'm not going to do anything rash, Steve. I wanted his name because Thor's going to want it as will the Asgardian council. He attempted to kill their queen. If we make it through all this, he's going to have to be put on trial and sentenced."

A load of tosh. Hermione was going to kill him.

Steve features softened. "You must be exhausted. I know you want to stay longer with her, but you need some sleep. Stark would've set up a room for you here, but he needs you at the tower with the labs."

Hermione bent over and kissed Jane on the forehead. "Good night. I'll see you again soon, my darling."

Instead of the jet, she flew to Stark Tower in a helicopter. They landed on the helipad, and Hermione was beginning to feel nauseous. Lack of dinner, rest, mixed with flying, pregnancy, and Jane's condition started to take its toll on her body. The three granola bars rebelled against her, and she barely made it outside of the helicopter before retching.

Sam got to her before Steve did. "Hey, there. Are you okay?"

"I just need to lay down," she mumbled, attempting to straighten up. He helped her, holding her to his side, carefully so as to not touch her belly.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah. Can you just…"

"I got you."

"Thanks."

She leaned against him for support as they made there way inside and to the elevator. Sam looked over his shoulder and said to Steve, "She's not going to talk to Tony tonight, Cap."

"I figured. She's exhausted."

"I can speak, you know?" Hermione grumbled. "You don't have to talk over me like that."

"Sorry," said Sam. "Would you like to speak with Tony? He's still awake, I'm sure of it."

Hermione went to say no but cinched her mouth shut when tasting the a fresh batch of bile hit the back of her tongue. She shook her head.

They took the elevator from the lounge area down to her old suite. Steve put her belongings in the bedroom, and Hermione let go of Sam in favor of the loo where she vomited once more. The two men thankfully gave her privacy, although she did hear some rattling around in the kitchen.

Once the wave of nausea passed, Hermione got off her knees and flushed the toilet before splashing cold water on her face and joining the men in the kitchen. Steve had just set a teakettle on the stove while Sam went through the near- empty cupboards.

"We're trying to find some ginger tea," said Steve.

"I'm sure Pepper's got some," Sam said. "I'll be back. There's some crackers in there if you want some."

Hermione smiled tiredly. "Thanks." She looked down at her hiking clothes with a grimace. "I'm going to change."

In her room, she popped open her trunk and got out a pair of sweat pants and a loose t-shirt. She wasn't in Costa Rica anymore. It was late October in New York. Shorts and a tank top weren't going to cut it.

Before going out into the kitchen again, she checked her belly and decided to slip on a robe, as well. Hiding the pregnancy, Hermione knew, was out of the question. She couldn't keep the ruse up forever, but now was not the time for the big reveal. It was three o'clock in the morning, and she felt like death and probably smelt like it, too. Exposing her delicate condition to Steve at the moment could possibly lead to Tony finding out within minutes, and Hermione really just wanted to have a cup of ginger tea and go to bed.

Steve had a bottle of Propel on the counter for her. He pointed at it and said, "You should drink a little bit of that."

"That's probably a good idea." She sipped at it, the taste of lemon gliding over her tongue.

Sam returned with a tea packet, and Steve poured the water in the mug. She took the packet and mug and bid them goodnight and thanks followed by disappearing into her bedroom and closing the door.

Hermione managed half the tea and then fell asleep, her dreams wild and senseless. In them, she was still at in Costa Rica and hiking the volcano where she was trying to reach the very top. The feat was impossible, for the grounds beneath her shook and soon the earth cracked open, and she fell into a pool where Nott and Remington were swimming. Remington jumped on her, his weight forcing her under. She pushed him off and surfaced, seeing Loki sitting on one of the layout chairs, hunched over and not looking at any of them. He was staring at his hand, in the palm of it was the mind stone. Jane then came out appeared in the pool, wearing an Asgardian gown and bright red Wellingtons. She climbed out of the pool and snatched the stone from Loki, swallowing it.

Loki flinched and stared up at Jane in bewilderment and then shifted his gaze to Hermione. "Why?" he asked, but it sounded like he had spoken underwater. Maybe because she was sinking and couldn't stay afloat. She tilted her head back to keep her face up and thought nothing was out of the ordinary when the pool developed a current which tugged her down a river. On the bank up ahead, she saw Ron and Harry side-by-side, gesturing for her to get out of the water. They looked young. They were young.

Hermione managed to get to the bank and then she was walking behind them in a forest. A glow-y, wispy doe leapt out in front of them, but neither of the boys stopped. Hermione's legs shifted on their own accord, and she followed the doe. She didn't walk long before Ron appeared from her peripheral and swept her up in an embrace.

"I have to go," he said. He dissolved in a mist in her arms, and the doe was gone. She was no longer in the forest but standing in front of the gates at Malfoy Manor. She pressed herself against the barrier and looked up at the mansion, her eyes noticing Draco at a window on the second level.

In a blink, she stood in the middle of the drawing room, a broken chandelier off to the side. She was alone and felt the need to touch her throat, her fingers coming back wet and bloodied. The sleeve covering her forearm was bloody, too.

"I know things now," she heard Malfoy say. She looked up and saw him standing in front of the unlit fireplace. He was young. Like Ron and Harry had been. He wore a charcoal black suit, and he said again. "I know things now."

"What things?" she heard herself say.

He pulled something from out of his pocket, and it slipped from his fingers. He scrambled for it and then he was laying on the floor, limps splayed and eyes empty and pinned to the ceiling. Gellous Frack was there, and he picked up what had fell. It was a ferret figurine, and he broke the porcelain with a clench of his fist. When he unclenched, the white pieces were gone. In place was the blue stone from the scepter. The hand that held it changed, sausage-like fingers transforming into long, spindly ones.

"Lemon drop?"

Albus Dumbledore stared at her expectantly, and chaos was happening around them. They were at Hogwarts standing at the bottom of a staircase, and the walls crumbled around from the spells being cast between the light and the dark. A person ran up to her, ginger and freckly.

"I know things now," Fred said.

Hermione watched him take off into a sprint up the stairs. When he was on the next level, he pitched himself off over the railing and fell to the merciless stone ground. When he made impact, he wasn't Fred anymore but was Severus Snape. Peeling her gaze off him, she said to Dumbledore, "Lemon drops are yellow."

"Are they?" he asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

Loki appeared behind Dumbledore, his focus sweeping over the battle happening around the three of them. A young boy, no older than sixteen, came up to Hermione and said, "I know things now." Colin Creevey then collapsed onto the floor on his own accord, his arm flung across Loki's feet and blood oozing freely out his gaping mouth.

He stared down, bewildered, at the lifeless boy for a few moments before ramming the scepter that appeared in his and hand into the back of Dumbledore. The curve of the blade stuck out of the old man's chest, jutting out through his beard, but he didn't seem to care nor even notice. Blood poured from the wound and down his blue robes, and Hermione asked Loki why he did that.

"I have to try again. It's not working. You're not working," he said, more to himself than to her.

"Well, if you won't mind," Dumbledore said, popping the blue stone into his mouth. The moment he swallowed, he said, "Hold this for me, will you?" It was the Elder Wand. Hermione accepted it and watched dully as Dumbledore fell to the floor alongside Colin who was no longer Colin but was Harry and Voldemort was standing over him victoriously.

Hermione jerked awake, heart pounding and skin cold and clammy. Her blankets were kicked off, and she was on her side. She groaned, sitting up and rubbing her face. She dreamt something, but she couldn't remember what. It must've been a crazy one to get her in such a state.

The digital alarm clock on the bedside table told her it was eight minutes after twelve, and she needed get up and meet with Tony, Dr. Banner, and Dr. Selvig. She hopped in the shower, scrubbing the yuck from her skin and hair. Afterwards, she debated over what she should wear. Ridiculous, yes, in the end, she shrugged off the drama the was going to inevitably come. She settled on a blue shirt that did nothing to hide her belly (though it didn't exactly display it, either). Over that was a white blouse, and she donned a pair of black leggings and flats.

Some kind soul must've gone grocery shopping on her behalf, for there were juice, butter, eggs, milk, and cheese in the fridge and fresh fruit in a bowl on the counter. Beside the toaster was a loaf a wholesome wheat bread and a bag of blueberry bagels. In the cupboard were boxes of Kashi cereal and Jif extra crunchy peanut butter. Her belly growled at the sight of the jar, and she grabbed it before slicing open a bagel and toasting it. A cup of tea, peanut butter on the blueberry bagel along with an orange was exactly what she needed.

Hermione took the elevator to the labs which were several floors down. On the way down, she sent a quick text to Nott and then to her parents, telling them she had made it to New York safely.

The elevator dinged and the door slid open, and she heard the distinct sound of Tony's drawl before even seeing him. The labs were adjacent to where Tony's social gatherings took place. They were all glass, plexiglass, and steel. They were separated into stacked quadrants, and Hermione saw Tony, Dr. Selvig, and who must be Dr. Banner clustered inside one of them. The men were facing a smart board, Jane's physic equations jumbled all over the place.

"It makes more sense to put this here," said Tony, shifting a formula to a different part of the board.

"We don't even know what that is," said Dr. Banner.

Dr. Selvig shuffled over to a computer, sitting down to drink from a mug.

"Maybe I can help," Hermione piped up, clasping her hands behind her back.

The three men turned to look at her, Tony's focus swiveling to her middle region. For all of two seconds, he stared and then said, "I change my mind. I don't want her here."

Dr. Banner said nothing, his forehead wrinkled and mouth drooped in a confused frown. He folded his arms and then scratched his neck before putting his back to her. His scratching hand travelled to his head and then he faced her again. "Hi, I'm Dr. Banner," he introduced, having decided to go for politeness rather than hostility. She was grateful

Hermione walked up to him and offered her hand. He looked at it for a long moment and then took it, shaking it. "Hermione Granger," she replied. "It's nice to finally meet. I wish it were under more ideal circumstances."

Dr. Banner avoided her gaze, ducking his face and nodding. He grimaced. "You, too."

Hermione let go of his hand, going over to Dr. Selvig, offering her hand to him as well. "It's good to see you again."

Unlike the two others, Dr. Selvig didn't seem at all perturbed by the belly and when he smiled at her, it was genuine. He must not know her connection with Loki, and Hermione was grateful he hadn't been told. Especially when he took her hand and said, "You still remind me of Jane. We should go see her this evening. I think she'd like that."

"I think so, too. I didn't get to stay as long as I wanted when I arrived in New York very early this morning."

Selvig's hand tightened around hers, "I heard you were in Costa Rica. I bet it's nice there. When this is all over, I think I'd like to visit. You know, I've never met your parents. Jane's aunt and uncle. Unfortunate, really. Jane's mother was a delight. I imagine no less for your mother."

Hermione couldn't help but beam. "My parents are wonderful people. They'd love to meet you. When Jane was in their company, she talked much of her mentor and little else."

He appeared sheepish and cupped her hand. "It's good of you to come, especially in your condition. Won't your fellow miss you?" He winked at her. "I'm assuming there is one. I hope I'm not being presumptive or rude."

Tony made a strangled noise to which he was ignored by both Selvig and Hermione.

"You're not at all, and I like to think he is missing me, but we'll be all right."

"So when we first met, I got the distinct impression you and Jane had dissimilar interests. You are positive you think you can help? A lot of the things we've been going over, even I can't completely comprehend." Selvig blew out a long breath, shaking his head.

"I was in Asgard with Jane and I took an interest in the language and the runes. After a little while, I started seeing equations, formulas, theories. They were things I thought would be useful to Jane. She slaved away to properly understand the Bi-frost, so I thought I could help her. I liked to think I did when I added to her notes without her knowing." Hermione walked up to Tony's smart board, pointing at the sequence he'd been debating. "I put that in her papers. As well as this." Her finger carefully hovered over another formula and placed it under the first sequence. "You see, while I was up there, both Jane and I discovered their mathematics and science were unlike anything we've ever seen. For one, much of their advancements are based on…well…symbols. _Runes_ if you will which are dealt with as though they have power. Magic. It is their science." She gestured to the board. "Which I'm sure you already know or have considered if Thor or Jane hadn't explained that part to you."

Tony didn't answer. He was too busy looking at her middle again.

Dr. Banner removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Jane did say that, but we're not magicians."

"And we don't know how to think like one," added Selvig. "Given my _history_ , I was able to nudged Jane's work in the right direction, but we've come to a standstill. There's been no progress in over a week, and we're on a deadline."

"We can do this," Hermione said encouragingly. "Lucky for all of you, I was not so toggled to science upon visiting Asgard. I can think—what's the word—whimsically. I can think whimsically while still using logic as my base. Or vice versa."

Dr. Banner put his glasses back on and beckoned her to the table and waved his hand over it, activating a projection of a 3D smartboard with file icons. He tapped one and opened it, splaying apart all the documents. "These are Jane's. Hopefully you and your whimsical mind can make sense of it."

Hermione contemplated the documents and knew she was going to have to upgrade her translations. Sweeping her gaze around the facility, she saw very few pieces of paper. In fact, she didn't even see anything that resembled a printer. She scratched the divot between her knitted brows and knew she was going to sneak in later when no one was around and scan her manuscripts and notes. It would be impractical and raise all sorts of questions if she freely toted around ancient, priceless manuscripts. Plus, these blokes looked like coffee-spillers. She easily imagined her treasures being soaked and ruined by their carelessness.

Shuffling through the documents, Hermione settled on a picture of the Bi-frost stamp. "All right. I'm going to start here."

"You might as well say you want us to start over."

"The moment you stuck that formula in a place it had no business being in, you were starting over, Mr. Stark," Hermione retorted. "I have a feeling there was much _starting over_ following Jane's incident. We can do it one more time. The three of you, you're fast at numbers. We'll catch up and with any luck, it'll all be right this time."

Tony glared at her. "You. Me. In the hallway."

Hermione watched him stalk off, and Dr. Banner's shrug at her was knowing. "Is this the part where you're going to say he'll come around?" Hermione said.

"No," he answered, a wry but kind enough smile on his face.

"I don't know what happened between you two," Selvig started, "but it better not interfere with _this_."

She followed Tony and said over her shoulder, "It won't."

In the hallway, Tony was on the phone. When he saw her, he said a hasty but bitter goodbye and stowed away the device. He took her by surprise and grabbed her upper arms, pinning her to the wall and getting in her face.

He released his grip but held his ground. "Look, I don't know what game you're playing—"

"Oh, no!" Hermione interrupted, angry as hell. "You do _not_ get to point fingers at me, Tony Stark, and believe ill of my intentions!"

"I find it hard to believe you don't have an agenda considering the kind of company you are obviously fond of keeping."

"Those I spend my private time with do not, under any circumstance, reflect my motivations. You may not believe it and you don't have to, but I'm on the good side. Quite honestly, Stark, you are the first person in a long time to accuse me of being anything but good."

"Gear up because I'm not going to be the last," he shot back.

She took a step towards him, folding her arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm sure Rogers told you when this whole fiasco is over that you gotta stay in Asgard. He wasn't kidding. Nick Fury sees you as a threat which means your life is over." His voice dropped considerably, like he thought someone might be listening. "I'm not telling you this because I don't. God, I don't. I'm telling you this as a favor to Jane and to Thor. When this is over and your seen as no longer useful, Fury's coming after you. Your private _visitor_ may not reflect your motivations, Hermione, but it's going to reflect your future. Your life is over if you stay here, kid."

He said nothing Hermione hadn't already mulled over on the plane after Steve brought it up. Tony was right. They both were. Honestly, she was sick over it but not something she had time dwell over when there were fifty million other things on her plate to worry about.

God, how did things get so out of hand. How did what was supposed to be a one-night stand eighteen months ago escalate into _this_?

For a moment, Hermione imagined what her life would've been like if she hadn't gotten in touch with Jane after separating with Ron. One thing for certain was that Hermione wouldn't be pregnant, but could she really say it was worth everything?

Yes. A lot of things still would've happened anyway, Hermione reckoned. Jane's marriage to Thor, Daphne, Loki being taken in Jotunheim where he would've likely died. Hankered to that slab until death decided him worthy enough. No one to save him or even able to.

And then King Alvid and Princess Aslaug, their true intentions may have never been revealed. They could still be alive, poisoning the counsel and the people of the realm against their royalty.

On top of that, without Loki and without his leaving her, Hermione would've never been angry or hurt enough to get back into working for Nott. Frack would likely be alive still, and Malfoy's remains could still be at the bottom of a swamp.

What was even more damning was that the invasion still would happen. Jane would still be far from building a Bi-frost, and Thor wouldn't have known how to help her. In that alternate universe, Jane may be in a coma, as well, and Thor would still be missing. There would be no hope in winning against Thanos who would come for Midgard after obtaining the Tesseract and would be pretty much indestructible.

Hermione may have not thought everything through when she decided to make a relationship out of what she had with Loki, but she couldn't bring herself regret anything. Her future with Earth, the days were numbered, but it was a sacrifice she knew she'd make again. There were bigger things to consider than a perfect happy ending for herself.

She finally said, her words barely above a whisper. "There are worse things."


	17. Chapter 17

The thing about dream-walking was…

"I have no control." Loki growled at her, baring his clenched teeth while he shredded her blouse. He clawed at her pants, his fingertips snagging at the button and zipper. Hermione didn't bother trying to push him off but searched inward for a trigger to wake herself up.

 _Wake up, wake up, wake up!_ She screamed at herself. The scenery changed around them, Stark's lab morphing into the Gryffindor Common Room. She could see people, both dead and alive, sitting on the couches and on the floor, laughing and mingling amongst themselves as Loki forcefully removed her pants.

"Wake up, Hermione!" Loki shouted, his voice hoarse. "Wake up before it's too late."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder. I can't withdraw. It's not how it works."

Hermione concentrated harder, the background changing again and Loki disappeared. She relaxed in relief, her surroundings now the room she stayed at in Stark Tower. She had just flown back from Costa Rica—

Loki leapt on her and slammed a knife into her chest.

"Apologies," she heard him say.

Hermione's eyes shot open, heart pounding and sweat-soaked. She looked at her clock and read fifteen after six. A little earlier than she'd like, but she might as well get a start on the day. Getting as much work in as possible before she returned to Lima in ten days was the goal. Because once she was back in Costa Rica, she wasn't returning to New York for a long time.

Healer's order.

She can't be travelling in her condition.

In the shower, she ran her hands over her pronounced belly, studying the stretch marks and then her fat fingers. She knew some of the pudginess was from basic pregnancy swelling, but she also put on six more pounds the past four weeks. Her healer warned her about gestational diabetes, but hunger plagued her at all hours. Being a pescatarian failed to keep her satisfied in her state. Not that she ate tons of seafood in her state. She craved things she hadn't had since she was a teenager—bacon, sausage, beef, and lamb. Lots of lamb.

Even worse, she had veal two nights ago.

 _Veal_.

"What do you want this morning, huh?" she asked her belly.

 _McDonald's._

After her shower, she got ready and took the lift down to main floor and walked through the hustle and bustle that was New York City. Thankfully, she didn't have to go far to get to those bloody golden arches, but she did have to wait in line forever. A woman about her age was polite and let Hermione go ahead of her but it merely shaved off two minutes.

While there, she thought she'd be nice and pick up breakfast for everyone and walked out of McDonald's with several paper bags and two cup-trays sporting hot coffee. When she got to the lab, both Tony and Jane were at it hard already.

Oh, yes. Jane woke up from her coma.

And Hermione had to come clean about certain things.

Like how she'd been slipping translations and equations into her work. Jane really had been devastated and not in the least bit grateful. But Hermione hadn't expected her to be. She understood this was Jane's _thing_. Her dream. Her mission. Her life. She'd been struggling with equations and algorithms for a long time, and then Hermione came along and made her look like an idiot.

" _Please stop hiding shit from me," Jane begged. "It's_ hurting _me. Not protecting me."_

The time to tell Jane that Hermione was a witch was approaching at a breakneck speed, but Hermione wanted to wait until the whole ordeal was over.

" _T_ _here's a few more things I need to tell you, but they're going to have to wait. Now isn't the time. You have enough on your plate."_

"Breakfast," announced Hermione, enjoying Stark's startled face at seeing bags of McDonald's on one of his smart tables.

"When did you get in?" he asked.

"Last night which leads me to say this'll be my last visit." Hermione drummed her fingers on her belly and then started in on her McGriddle. Jane joined her and found an Egg McMuffin and a coffee.

"How's Daphne?" asked Jane, solemn and needy.

"Mum's taking good care of her, but she wants to see you. She knows something fishy is going on? And I think she's had about enough of my lies."

"I know the feeling," she muttered, jaded, and then busied herself next to Stark who turned his nose up.

"Got a parfait in there?"

"Yes, but it's mine."

Unbothered, he rifled through the bags and found it, digging in without a word.

Soon, Dr. Selvig and Dr. Banner joined them, and all of them dove head first into work. Impatience clawed at all of them, but especially Hermione. The scepter and the gem were still lodged up in her belongings, now buried at the bottom of her trunk. Just when she thought it was Jane and the others were ready for their power source, they had a setback.

Loki instructed her _not_ to hand over the gem until Jane and Stark were completely ready for it. He warned Hermione of the risks of having it out in the open too long. HYDRA would come for it.

That night, she and the others retired early. Everything was about finished, and Hermione planned to tell Loki she thought it time to hand off the gem to Jane.

For the past three months, dream-walking was their way of communicating. Or more like Loki's way of reaching out to her. It still baffled her on how he was able to do it across worlds, but then again, he had to be using a fair amount of what she learned to call 'dark energy.' Conjuring it had to be draining on him, thus, why he usually came to her once, maybe twice, every two weeks.

God knew, it was draining on Hermione. Dream-walking, she learned, had a price. The price being that dreams were unstable and everchanging and influenced the dreamers for the worse.

The first few times Loki tried to reach out to her, Hermione thought she was suffering from wicked terrors brought on by stress. In truth, he was learning _how_ to dream-walk, and he'd quickly lose control merely moments into her dreams. The first attempt could've been worse. He killed Dumbledore but more out of impatience than loss of control. The second attempt had been goddamned horrifying. She had already been in the midst of an odd dream when he came twitching and crawling along like a monster out of a Japanese horror film and _shredded_ Theodore.

Kneading her neck and lower back, Hermione climbed into bed and breathed in and out deeply several times, readying herself. It was unlikely Loki would visit her since he just did so the night previous, but she felt prudent she should prepare.

He didn't visit for five nights and then did so three times in a row.

* * *

Hermione got up from her bed, a thin sheen of sweat adorning her skin. Her sleepwear clung to her skin, and her heart drummed violently. The baby kicked.

And then kicked harder.

Again.

Several more times.

Hermione winced and pressed a hand into her belly.

The pregnancy wasn't feeling so healthy anymore, and she feared something wrong. The dream-walking was taking a toll, and she had to tell Loki to stop. She had to tell him to stop coming to her. Not just so many times in a row but for good.

Before Hermione jolted awake, Loki wrapped his fingers around her neck and squeezed as he held her under a fast-falling waterfall of acid. Before he turned—and he usually was the first to do so— she told him it was time. Help would be there soon.

 _More help_.

Two nights ago, Loki disclosed a party of miscreants and a militia from galaxies away joined in the fight to defeat Thanos who now sat on Odin's throne yielding several of the Infinity Stones. What had kept Thanos from coming for the rest was war. Six realms of Yggdrasil had joined the fight. Armies upon armies were going head to head with the Chitauri.

Last night Loki belayed no one was winning. Death surrounded him. Bombarded him and half as Asgard was in shambles.

Odin, laying vulnerable amid his sleep, died first, and Thor was captured a while ago. Loki _believed_ his brother alive but had no evidence to back the claim.

" _Banner will come, won't he?"_ Loki had asked.

" _I think so."_

" _If he doesn't,"_ he began, _"use the scepter. Force him."_

" _I doubt it'll come to that."_

The baby's kicking calmed down, and Hermione got up from the bed to go pee an ocean and get ready for the lab. She had a bit more translating to do, and it was time to present Jane her energy source for fueling her wormhole. It was time to give her the stone.

Dressed and fed, Hermione texted Jane and told her to come see her before going to the lab. Her cousin arrived several minutes later, and the woman's hair was down in such a way to hide the garish scar at her temple.

"I have something for you," she told Jane, going into her closet. She paused when bending down to unlatch her trunk and inhaled sharply. She braced herself on the box and palmed her lower side.

Braxton Hicks, she told herself. The baby wasn't due for a month.

The pain subsided and Hermione opened the trunk, taking out the scepter and shuffling back into the main area where Jane nearly had an aneurysm.

"Holy shit!" Her cousin yanked the scepter from Hermione, eyes wide and transfixed on the stone.

"I couldn't risk anyone getting wind that Loki left that to me," Hermione explained cautiously. "That's going to open your wormhole."

"You had this the whole time? I was yanking my hair out. _Scared_ because I had no idea what I was going to use to…" Her voice trailed off, and her brown eyes rested on Hermione. She let out a long, whistle-like breath through her nose. "I get it. I'm not going to be pissed. This…is amazing."

Jane marched into the lab, scepter in hand and chin stubbornly stuck out. She hovered the weapon above Tony's work station, the man coming unglued at the sight of it, and Dr. Selvig let out a squawk. Banner bounded over, fumbling with his glasses all the while.

"I got us a power source," announced Jane. "We should be in Asgard by the end of the week. Call Steve."

"Where did you—" started Tony.

"Doesn't matter," snapped Jane and forcefully shoved the scepter at Stark. She furrowed her brow at it and then wiped her hands on her lab coat. "Run the analytics. We need to work fast. Hermione, get working on finishing those translations. Dr. Banner and Tony. Start analyzing the stone. Erik and I will continue on Platform and make adjustments as we go."

Jane and Dr. Selvig left the lab to go the roof where their device was which Jane called Platform. Hermione delved into where she left off the night before, and the time got away from them all. Stark and Dr. Banner reveled in the stone's power. They projected the stone's power into a three-dimensional hologram and compared it to JARVIS's programming.

"Ultron," Stark said to Banner, his eyes sharp and satisfied.

Banner pursed his lips, as if considering, and then replied, "Later."

"It could come handy—"

"It'll set us back, Tony."

Stark made a face and then scratched the back of his neck. "But what if there is no later, Banner? What if this is it? What if we go through that hole and all die? _Bam!_ No more Avengers. The world is defenseless."

Dr. Banner said nothing, and Hermione could _feel_ him wavering. Teetering. Leaning into Stark's line of thinking. She had to intervene. She couldn't afford Tony getting deterred or distracted. They were so goddamned close. She was so damned close. Soon she'd see Loki again, and the biggest problem they'd have would be tracking down his wife for that goddamned divorce.

"I don't pretend to know what you two are talking about," began Hermione, "but if it's anything that's going to slow what we've worked so hard—"

"Stay out of it. Oh, and it's _obvious_ it was you who had the scepter—"

"I will take it right back if you use it for anything else besides what we're working for here."

"Wait, _you_ had it this whole time?" accused Banner, his expression one of betrayal. She and him had a polite understanding based on the fact he wasn't an asshole like Tony and she wasn't insane like Loki.

Hermione stood up from her station. _"Look,_ I…Oh!" A sharp, cramping pain hit her, and a gush of wetness soaked her leggings.

Her water broke.

"Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Ohdearohdearohdearohdear—"

"What's wro—" tried Dr. Banner.

"My water broke!"

Dr. Banner's expression morphed into panic and then concern, and she could see him completely forgetting she ever had the scepter. He rushed to her side and encouraged her to sit back down and started rambling off questions.

"Was this your first contraction?"

She shrugged. "I had a few Braxton Hicks earlier. I'm not sure."

"You're not sure?!"

"I'm not due for a month. Oh, God. It's too early." She cupped her head. This was not the plan. She was supposed to be in Costa Rica for the birth. She had a plan. She had a reservation with an expensive mid-wife, and Theo and her mum was supposed to be there. She needed to call them!

"When was the last one?"

"A couple of hours ago, I guess." She grabbed her phone and sent both her mum and Theo a text.

Dr. Banner nodded. "All right. That's good. Gives us time to get you to the base."

"I'll fire the chopper," offered Tony. "JARVIS!"

"Sir, I strongly advise—"

"—that we go by vehicle," finished Banner. "It's snowing hard outside."

Hermione sent a third text to Jane telling her the situation. Immediately, she called and yelled, "You've got to be fucking kidding me? _Now?_ The baby's coming _now_? But we're—"

"Keep at it," Hermione instructed. "I'll be fine."

Jane went silent. "Hermione, you were right there when Daphne was born. I can't _not_ be there when your little girl comes. I'll be down."

Because Jane was leaving, the rest of the men had to stay and make up for the loss. Happy, Stark's body guard, drove the limo. He was a nice bloke but maybe took everything too seriously. He, too, had JARVIS available to him and made use of it to get them out of New York City as fast as possible. They were making good time, but Hermione was laying down, having endured two more contractions since her water broke.

"God, they really do hurt," groaned Hermione. Her phone buzzed for the umpteenth time, and Jane frowned at the screen.

"It's Theodore. He's on his way with your mom and dad. They just got to the airport." The woman sighed. "I can't have Daphne here. Not when I'm so close." She shook her head. "I'll deal with it."

The vehicle came to a stop, and Hermione watched Jane peek out the window, her features twisting into horror. "Shit." She then looked back and swore again. "Hermione."

"What? What's wrong?"

The divider lowered, and Happy jumped in before Jane could. "Traffic jam. Eight car pile-up a quarter mile ahead of us. I'm calling Tony to arrange that helicopter. We're looking at no other choice."

Just then another contraction hit, and Jane checked her watch. "That's not even fifteen. Seven minutes."

The next four contractions were seven minutes steady, and there was no helicopter to be seen. When Hermione got her fourth contraction, five minutes had passed from the last, and Hermione couldn't help but cry because _why not?_ Loki wasn't there, Thor could be dead, an intergalactic war was going on, the baby didn't give two fucks, and her mum wasn't there!

"The storm's not letting up. We can't get that ride," said Happy, his tone exasperated. Hermione pictured him rubbing his face and then finger-combing his hair in frustration. "We don't have a hospital for four blocks."

Another contraction hit, the worst one yet. Hermione was down to three minutes, and she brushed Jane's fingers away from her forehead. Her cousin had been trying to comfort her, but it was time to get real.

"Jane, take off my shoes and help me get my pants off."

Her cousin stilled, her mouth falling open and then snapped shut. She nodded and pushed a button on her armrest that put up the divider before divesting Hermione of her shoes, leggings, and underwear. Jane swallowed thickly and stared between Hermione's legs.

"How's it look down there?"

Jane let out a shaky _oh_ sound and then whipped out her phone. "Siri? How do I fucking deliver a baby?"

" _Fucking may lead to a baby delivery,"_ chirped Siri.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding." Jane threw her phone. "I can do this. I _did_ this. I had a baby, so we can get through this."

"You only have to worry about catching the baby." Hermione gasped and dug her fingers into the leather upholstery of the seat. Her vaginal walls and womb shuddered and screamed at her to push, but she knew it was still too soon. Three contractions later, all of them less than thirty seconds apart, and Jane could see the top of the head.

"She's crowning. I think you're good to push."

Sweat pooled in the hollow of Hermione's throat and pain ripped through her as she pushed. The pain was so intense, she nearly blacked out. Dots filled her vision, but Jane wasn't having any of it. She dug her fingertips into Hermione's calves.

"Two more. You can do it. One. Two. Three. _Push!"_

Hermione howled and fell back on the seat, exhausted, and incredibly distraught. Her chin trembled, and Jane commanded her to push again.

"One more time. She's almost here, Hermione."

Sobbing, she shook her head. "I can't."

"Yes, you can."

Something triggered inside Hermione, and she felt the need to turn over and get on all fours. Jane helped her to the floor, and Hermione pressed her arms against the door, using that to help her push. She lifted her leg to the side and felt her child leave her followed by the amniotic sac.

Her brain began to fuzz, and her eyelids drooped but then she heard the pitiful, disheartened sound of her baby's cry and something _divine_ burst inside of her. She managed to get on her back and saw Jane holding a wriggling, gunk-covered baby in her jacket. Jane's eyes were glazed, astonished and yet hinting at anxiety.

"Hermione," she said, handing over the child. "It's a boy."

Beneath the joy of finally bearing a child, there had been a fear that plagued Hermione. A fear stemming from the knowledge of Loki's true parentage. She had never indulged Loki on his insistence their baby would be an abomination and even perhaps hurt her as her body strived to incubate and grow it, but a part of her wondered if he was right. Underneath that pretty façade of his was a Jotunn.

Throughout the pregnancy, her fears lessened. Aside from the third trimester being hell with the dream-walking and gaining two more stones, the fetus developing normally comforted her. For the most part.

Yes, she worried about her kid being blue, all right?

Hermione took her newborn son from Jane, a strangled breath escaping her. Underneath her fluid and blood was a shivering and pale, pinkish baby boy.

A boy.

A _boy!_

She let out a soft but incredulous laugh as she swaddled the child, careful to work around the umbilical cord. "Oh, my God."

"Yeah," Jane said, breathless.

"I have son."

"You said—"

"I didn't bother finding out for obvious reasons. _We_ don't have boys." Hermione nestled her son to her chest, wishing to remove her shirt and do the whole skin-to-skin thing. A hunger to _feel_ him overtook her, and she asked Jane to help her remove the rest of her clothes. The moment his clammy, sticky, and albeit wrinkly skin touched her sternum, a potent wave of love crashed into her, and tears slipped down her cheeks. Never in her life had she been so happy than in that moment.

Hermione wished to not stay at the base longer than necessary. Her parents, Daphne, and Theo were flying to New York, and the Avengers' base is not a place where she wanted any of them to be. Her parents were likely expecting her to be at a hospital, and Hermione hoped to be at Nott's flat by the time the whole party lands at JFK. But that would likely be out of the cards.

* * *

The medical practitioners at the base wanted to run tests, having heard rumors the baby's heritage wasn't one-hundred percent human. They wanted to take blood and saliva samples and run him through all kinds of scans, especially after they took his temperature, resting steady for two hours at ninety-three degrees. It then spiked to ninety-six for forty minutes and then plummeted to eighty-eight after nursing for the first time.

Hermione was a practical woman. She knew the importance of the tests and even yearned to know the results. But. _But_ , she couldn't risk any samples falling into the wrong hands. She allowed a nurse to administer the appropriate vaccinations, and Jane made sure the needles were disposed of accordingly.

"You'll need to check the bilirubin in no more than a week's time," pressed Dr. Cho. "I can oversee it personally and dispose of the collections myself."

"I'll think about it," supplied Hermione, distrust dripping from her tongue.

The woman sighed and glanced at one of her assistance, helpless but encouraging. The younger woman stepped forward and scribbled some things down on a data pad. "Do you have a name for him? We have to report it to the state records."

The question didn't necessarily surprise Hermione. Since she held her son, names upon names ran across her mind to replace the one she decided on weeks ago.

"He doesn't look so much like a Helena Jane," remarked Jane. "What about your dad?"

She could name him after her father, Hermione supposed. Studying her son's features, he could be a Daniel…maybe. In honesty, she'd like Loki's input. Especially since she wasn't entirely sure what last name to give him. They never talked about it. All he said about the name Helena Jane in the midst of one of their dream-walking sequences was that he planned to call her Hel.

Hermione reflected on how Daphne got slotted with a name which was both thoughtful and a mouthful—Daphne Hermia Eerika Thorsdottir.

Unable to give a name as of yet and despite Dr. Cho's insistence she needed to rest, Hermione left the base that night with Jane and returned to the Avengers' Tower. Stark was kind of enough to arrange her parents a suite at the Four Seasons, and Happy would be picking them up from the JFK at one o'clock in the morning. Over the phone, Theo explained he'd rather situate himself out. He'd hitch a cab to his flat, no worries, and be at the Four Seasons for brunch at ten sharp.

Arriving back at the Tower with one more person than she left with, Hermione managed to make it to her floor without much of a fuss. Baby Boy Granger (his name for the time being) was swaddled and snuggled and buckled in a brand-new carrier. Jane fiddled with her phone to get the whole thing on a video.

"And here we are at your mommy's," she cooed, adjusting the diaper backpack straps on her shoulders. The elevator door opened, and she said, "He's kinda cute, you know? And _little_. I don't think Daphne was that small."

Hermione put the carrier on the coffee table and gingerly unbuckled her son. "He was early. He'll catch up." She checked her new watch, something Dr. Cho gave her to keep track of breastfeeding, explaining it was just to help feed him as often as possible. Wake him if needs be. Twenty minutes on each side for the first week.

"Are you hungry, muffin?" she asked her knocked-out kid. She kissed his forehead, inhaling his perfect scent as well as eyeing his adorable wisps of dark hair. The temperature of his skin did kind of throw her. He wasn't exactly cold, but he didn't feel liquid-y warm like most babies do.

Situating herself on the couch, she yanked up her sweater and pulled at the flaps of her hideous new nursing bra and obliged to what the nursing specialist told her. She shoved her boob quite aggressively into her son's mouth. Jane snorted while going through the backpack's goodies, bragging how Daphne was an easy latch.

"Like a vacuum, that kid. _Slooop!_ " Jane removed the plastic-wrapped stack of Luvs and rolled her eyes. "Well, that'll last you the night. What else is in here? Oh, good. Diaper cream and powder. Hmm, fancy. Mommy tea to get your milk all nice and milky. Vitamins. Some formula. Teeny tiny bottles. A burp rag and portable changing mat. Oh, a single white onesie that says Oops on it."

Hermione sputtered. "What?"

Jane turned the onesie, so Hermione could see. Sure enough, in glossy blue letters the word Oops was spelled out. She then grinned impishly. "Maybe that's what you should name him."

"But it's Daphne's nickname—"

"Shush your mouth."

Hermione laughed and then groaned in pain. They never tell you how unpleasant breastfeeding can be.

"Just wait until he starts teething," teased Jane.

Jane stayed with Hermione for the entire night. They both laid on the bed, the baby between them, none of them getting much sleep. Every ninety minutes to two hours, Hermione had to nurse. By the third round, exhaustion settled in. Not a sleepy type of an exhaustion but something deeper. Aches began to blossom and sweat beaded at her temples. She exhaled and let her head fall back on the pillow while Jane's fingers flew across the keyboard of her laptop.

"I don't feel bad for you," Jane said.

"I knew it was going to be this way," Hermione replied defensively.

"But you don't _really_ know until boom! You got a baby." Jane's typing slowed and she clocked a glance at the boy. "When this mess is all over and things get back to normal. I think Thor and I are going to go for another."

Hermione arched a brow. "I thought you said you were done."

There was a pause, and then Jane shifted and shut her laptop. "Don't take this wrong way. Don't think I'm mad at you."

"…all right…"

Her cousin curled her knees to the side of her, and faced Hermione. "I think Thor's going to freak out when he sees… _that._ " She points at the baby. "Because…it means Daphne won't be inherit."

"She'll be qu—"

"No, she won't. And it's not up to Thor alone to change the laws. The council would have to back the notion. It would have to be unanimous. It's not just some law or bill. It would be changing ever—"

"It's Loki's illegitimate son. They're going to go for your kid—"

"Not when Asgard favors male leaders. And even if Thor decided to go against the council and gives the throne to her, it would be in your kid's right to usurp her."

"Are we really having this conversation, Jane?"

"Yes!" Jane's expression turned stormy. "This isn't a joke because…what if I can't?"

"Can't?"

Jane swallowed, and her cheeks started to pink. "What if I can't give Thor a son?"

Brows knitting together, Hermione asked, "Has he ever told you he wanted one?"

"Well…no."

"Has he ever told you he wanted more kids?"

"Not really."

"When you told Thor I was pregnant, did he seem worried about his legacy at all?"

She shook her head.

"Is it occurring to you that you're fretting over nothing?"

"I'm not."

Hermione exhaled, soft and slow. "I'm going to direct this conversation off to the left. Don't take it the wrong way. Don't think I'm mad at you."

Jane almost smiled.

"Thor may not care I have a son. It may not bother him Daphne won't be queen because he now has a nephew who's entitled to that inheritance, and that's just the way life is."

"But it's Loki's—"

"He's not going to see my kid as a threat or ticking time bomb because _I'm_ the mom. He knows I'm not going to let him grow up to be a wanker."

Jane nodded, her expression turning pensive. After a while, she confessed, "I don't want anymore kids. I want Daphne to be queen, and I want your son to be content as a prince and a high-functioning member of the council."

Hermione dipped her chin, considering her cousin's words. "I don't want him to be king."

"I want our babies to be friends."

"I want it to be known," started Hermione, "from early on, the next in line for the throne will be Daphne. We are _not_ doing what your in-laws did."

Jane still looked upset. "Loki's not going to like this."

"I'll deal with him." The baby made keening sound, and Hermione smiled fondly down at him. "Won't I? Because Mummy's in charge, huh? Not Daddy."

* * *

Brunch at the Four Seasons went...well... not great.

Helena Granger swooped in to embrace her daughter tightly and then hastily but gently removed her grandson from his carrier, making quick work of kissing every part of his sleeping face.

"He's so handsome," gushed Hermione's mum. "And little! What was his weight again?"

"Five pounds, thirteen ounces," pitched Jane, a grabby Daphne on her lap. The girl made an attempt to grab at her mom's coffee which Theo smoothly blocked from the sidelines.

"Where's Lukas?" asked Daniel Granger.

"He'll be here tomorrow. He's stuck in Oslo. He's in the thick of a case," Hermione said.

"Bjorn's in it with him, too," added Jane.

"He should be here," chided Helena. "He's got a baby. This isn't looking promising, Hermione. _Jane_ , I'm starting to feel the same way about you and Bjorn. You think I'd receive a call from him at least once now that I'm taking care of his daughter."

Her husband sighed deeply. "What she means to say is that she's done taking anymore bullshit, young ladies."

"This is turning into a private ordeal-" Theo got up to leave.

"No, you stay," ordered Helena, shifting her grandson in her arms. "You stay and tell my daughter how you feel and tell her she deserves better and so does her boy. And _you,_ " she pointed to Jane. "I've put up a lot from you, Jane Creusa Foster. Your flightiness for one thing. Your complete lack of respect for you mother's traditions. An elopement, for God's sake! The dishonor. My mother would've had a stroke, God rest her soul. And let us mention how we rarely hear from you on holidays-"

"Auntie, please." Jane winced. "This is a time to celebrate. Not an opportunity get something off your chest. Hermione just had a miracle baby."

It was as if, Helena hadn't heard her niece. She zeroed in on her daughter. "And it's time for you to tell her, Hermione."

"Not here."

"I agree," both Daniel and Theo said in unison.

"Tell me what?"

"Later, I promise." Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and shot Theo a glance of despair. He put his hand her forearm, squeezing and she gave him a strained smile.

"Hel," tried Daniel.

Jane stroked Daphne's curly blonde hair, her mouth set in a shamed frown. "Hermione, maybe we should tell them." She looked at her cousin and then at tilted her chin at Theo. "Does he know?"

"Almost everything."

"What do you mean _almost_?" Theo hissed.

"Lukas," Jane said knowingly.

"Mum. Dad, Theo and I have to talk about something. Then when I come back, all of us are going to have brunch and then go to the room and have a talk." She shot a sad look at Theo. "Maybe all of us."

Hermione got up from the table and walked out of the restaurant. She shot down to the lobby and sat down on a sofa. The area was populated and hoped that would work in her favor, although, Theo wasn't above beating the shit out of her in public.

Putting a hand on her chest, she thought about how much she'd prefer a harsh slap or being shoved to the ground than what he'd be more likely to do.

She was reminded of what Stark told her months ago. How it'd be unwise for her to return to Earth after settling in Asgard.

Theo sat down beside her, and she reached for his hands. She interlaced her fingers with his, and then she knew what she was going to name her son. Regardless of how this ended.

"I love you, you know," she told him.

His fingers tightened around hers, and his mouth opened and then shut. A dozen emotions spilled over his face, and soon his features settled on one of resignation. "What do you have to tell me, really?"

"The truth. All of it. I thought I'd start with the easy part. Because what comes after, it's going to be hard. Not just for me." Hermione lowered her gaze to their intertwined hands. "I'll start where I first went to Asgard."

To be Continued...

* * *

A/N: Bet you thought I abandoned ship. :)

Thank you all to have been patient, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.


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